


The Yu-Gi-Oh Fanfiction Graveyard

by Blue Eyes Black Dragon (OperaGoose)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, abandoned fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:10:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaGoose/pseuds/Blue%20Eyes%20Black%20Dragon
Summary: All the fics I have started but will never finish, gathered together in one collection.Mostly puppyshipping.





	1. Dimensional Slave Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jou, Kaiba, mentioned Mokuba.  
> Mentioned pairings: None.  
> Warnings: Minor imprisonment. A lot of offscreen death.

Whatever he had been expecting, years after things had gone back to normal, it had not been the invasion. They had come – from the future, or some alternate dimension, he wasn’t entirely sure. A portal had ripped open the middle of Domino City, destroying several cities and killing thousands. Two days later it had released an army – wearing strange helmets and dressed in the same blue uniforms. They summoned huge mecha monsters that looked like holograms but smashed everything they came across. 

Most people died. Some had been sealed into cards – like his was Duellist Kingdom all over again. Fewer still were captured, and sealed up into shipping containers to be taken who knew where. 

Jounouchi Katsuya had fought hard. His own deck was **weak** against theirs, hyped up on too many special effects that the game was nearly unplayable. He’d lost, eventually, and found himself dragged off by two of them and tossed into one of the containers, the doors bolted shut behind him. Inside was a huddled mass of people in various states of shambles. Some were crying, others whispering consolingly to one another, a couple loudly banging on the walls and demanding to be let out. 

Jou just tucked himself up against the wall and closed his eyes. Whatever was coming next, he knew it would be dangerous – and he wanted to be in top form for it. 

~*~ 

Whatever language they spoke, it sounded nothing like the Japanese he knew. Sometimes he thought he could catch a word or two that sounded almost familiar, but it was in a mess of words that didn’t. The rhythm was completely unfamiliar, the vowels sounded almost accented. What he did catch, however, was what they were. 

Every so often, the uniformed guards watching their cages – wearing yellow, this time – would look at them. And they would talk to each other, and repeatedly say the same word. A word that sounded suspiciously like ‘ _dorei_ ’. They were here to be slaves. 

They rotated the groups around frequently, especially the ones who got too chatty – probably trying to discourage them from forming groups or rebellions. Every time there was a rotation, Jou scanned the faces for someone he knew – _anyone_ he recognised from _before_. 

It was days before he did – and even though it was the last face he had ever wanted to see _before_ , now he nearly wept in relief. 

Seto Kaiba was marched into the cell beside theirs. His cold blue eyes, which had begun to look a little defeated, brightened just a fraction when he saw Jou on the other side of the bars. 

“Wheeler,” he said, standing beside him. 

“Kaiba.” 

“Have you seen my brother?” 

Mokuba was here? Or maybe Kaiba was just _hoping_ he was. 

Reluctantly, he shook his head. “I haven’t seen him, but I’ll–” 

A guard shouted then. Sounding angry and close enough to ‘ _damare_ ’ to know he was being told to shut up. He sighed and fell silent. 

Still, he watched Kaiba. Held on to the fact that if he had seen _him_ , and it had taken so long, it was just more hope that he might see his old friends too eventually. The look he got in return told him that Kaiba was thinking the same thing. 

As time passed between the next rotation, Jou sat with Kaiba. Their fingers just touched along the floor. The guards would yell if they had tried more, but that one bit of contact Jou hungrily clung to for the rest of the night. In the next rotation, Jou was taken out and moved. 

He wouldn’t see Kaiba again for months. 

~*~ 

Eventually, they started taking people out for assignments. When Jou was taken for his, he made himself keep calm. Some of the taller, more muscular people were grouped together – for manual labour, Jou had to guess. 

Others were moved to another group, and given what almost looked like cleaning aprons. Some were looked over, deemed unsuitable. When they came to him, he felt sick. They measured his height, looked grim, and lifted his arms to feel his muscles. They then inspected his hands and with a disgusted “tch!” stepped back to raise the machine for carding. 

“ _Matte_!” he yelled, panicked, “wait!” Shockingly, they did pause. “I can cook! _Ryouri_!” He mimed stirring, then eating. “ _Fuudo_.” 

They gave him a distrustful look. As if they didn’t trust he wouldn’t poison them. 

“ _Ryouri doreii_ ,” he added. “I’ll cook for us.” He gestured to himself, and the other slaves. 

They regarded him for a long moment, then moved on down the line. He stayed frozen, not sure what was happening. 

Once all the other slaves were moved out, they returned with a nerdish-looking man in glasses. “They say you’re trying to speak our language.” 

Jou glanced around. “A little. It sounds a lot like Japanese.” 

The nerd hummed. “What was it you were trying to say? I will translate.” 

“I said I coul cook,” he replied carefully. “For the rest of… the people like me. The _dorei_.” 

The doctor turned, and translated. There was some discussion between them, then some arguing. Someone else was sent for, and argued with again. Eventually, they must’ve come to some sort of decision, because the first one led him out of the room. He followed them along the corridors, down way too many he could remember and deposited in an old… well, it looked like a terrible cafeteria. 

“ _Ryouri_.” They commanded impatiently. “Cook,” they added, in a mocking sort of voice. 

*****

And that’s that. I found a bit more in my notes so at least it's not an unfinished sentence now! 

From this point on, Jou would get a job running the kitchen. He’d ask for help, someone young, and would get Mokuba as a cooking assistant. He’d get word to Kaiba, who is working with The Nerd Guy as a translator. 

This, along with all other fics in the graveyard, are available for adoption. Let me know if you wish to continue it! 


	2. Psychic Connection With A House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jou, Kaiba, Atem, Yuugi, Anzu, Honda, Ryou, Mokuba.  
> Mentioned pairings: Kaiba/Atem, Atem/Yuugi, Yuugi/Anzu, Anzu/Atem, Anzu/Otogi, Otogi/Honda, Everyone/Thinking Jou Is Hot.  
> Warnings: None.

At the end of it, Jou could only wish that they’d never come to the house. They knew better than to mess with insane duellists wielding magic items. The same notion was echoed by the rest of them – and he _knew_ that. Because he could _feel_ it. 

Jou covered his ears, as if that would help. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he mumbled. 

From some corners, he got sympathy – and from other Kaiba-like corners there was irritation. They _couldn’t_ shut up, the thought washed across them, not to one another. 

“It’s tired to the house,” came a trio of voices, in horrifying perfect unison. 

“We should all just leave then.” That was Anzu’s voice, but it wounded _wrong_ in Kaiba’s disdain and Osaka accent. 

A violent jolt of panic broke through the bond. It was Kaiba who picked through all of them to find who it came from – but didn’t find the source. “Who…?” 

“The house,” Jou croaked, horrified. “It doesn’t want us to leave.” 

The panic that flooded the bond that time came from a few of them. 

“One by one,” Ryou said – in Atem’s deep, regal voice. 

Kaiba went to the door, yanked it open and stepped right out. His presence vanished from their group the instant he was outside the front door. 

Kaiba was in love with Atem. Who could have predicted that? Poor Kaiba – because Atem felt everything for Yuugi. Yuugi who loved Atem more than life itself but _romantically_ , he loved Anzu. Anzu who had slept with Otogi last week because she couldn’t have Atem. Otogi who had been secretly dating Honda for _months_ – but it was fine because Otogi and Honda had an open relationship – so Anzu hadn’t really been _cheating_ – 

“Can we stop?” Jou snapped. 

…Jou looked _hot_ when he got all riled up like that. 

“Oh my god! Someone just fucking leave already!” Jou said, his face blooming red. He didn’t know where the thought had originated, but it made a home in several of their thoughts. 

Anzu stepped out next. Then Honda, then Ryou, then Yuugi. Atem was second last, giving Jou a smile and the parting thought that it was working. 

As soon as Jou was alone, his awareness contracted. There was only him and the house and the house was so lonely and it was so old and it ached and oh god it hurt. 

As soon as Kaiba stepped back inside, Jou was aware of the sight he made in the CEO’s eyes. Collapsed against the floor, pale and shaking – crying but totally silent. Kaiba thought he was pathetic, but as the memory of his connection with the house passed over, some understanding washed that away. 

“We can’t all leave,” Kaiba said aloud to the people outside. “When there’s only one of us in the house, it hurts.” 

“So what do we do?” Ryou asked. 

“It worked fine before Atem left, and it’s fine now,” Jou answered. As ‘fine’ as being psychically linked to the loser dog and the rest of the dweeb patrol could be, anyway. 

“There needs to be two of us, at minimum,” Kaiba replied. “Or the last person inside…suffers.” 

“We can’t give up our lives to this house!” Atem protested. The sound of his voice sent a shiver down Kaiba’s spine, and his thoughts immediately turned to agree with him. 

Jou’s temper rose to that – Kaiba couldn’t think for himself when Atem was around. He called that love – but that wasn’t love. He didn’t know exactly what to call it. Something like being a slave. 

“There are seven of us,” Jou replied, turning to look at them. “Between all of us, we can be here in pairs.” 

“Jou…?” Honda said uncertaintly. 

“Yeah?” He repeated, confused. 

“…that’s creepy as hell.” 

He realised, vaguely, that he’d moved and spoken with Kaiba’s body. The surprise had him hurtling back into his own awareness, head spinning. 

He stood up and went to the door, staying well inside the threshold. “Okay,” he started again. “Yuugi, Atem – I think you two should go first. You guys are used to having one body, this won’t be as stressful for you as everyone else.” 

Atem opened his mouth to argue, but Jou glared at him until he closed it again. 

“The rest of you need to send me your weekly schedule so I can put together a roster.” He didn’t know half these words beforehand, but he knew them now. Kaiba was good for something at least, and he _could_ be trained to be useful. 

Yuugi finally coaxed Atem into the house. Jou had a brief flash of the former pharaoh’s fury at being stuck in a situation like this before he stepped out the front door. 

The group trickled away. Jou headed to the library to use the public computers. 

His friends were not generous with their free time. He knew he was different – he didn’t have a job, or university classes, or family that wanted to see him at night. Even Atem, who had a vast fortune and nothing but free time, stubbornly gave the exact same hours Jou had gotten from Yuugi. Since Ryou had quietly asked if he could be given as little time with Yuugi or Atem as possible, Jou just gave them all their shifts together. 

Eventually, he printed out the schedule he’d pieced together and went to wait outside Kaiba’s office until old Moneydick had time to fit him in. 

An hour into his wait – Kaiba’s secretary glaring at him distastefully the entire time – Mokuba appeared. He’d grown – was taller than even Kaiba now. “Jounouchi?” He asked, surprised. “What are you doing here?” 

Jou gave a tired smile. “Hey there, Little Kaiba. I’m just waiting to see if your brother can fit me in.” 

“About… what happened at the house earlier today?” Mokuba asked. 

Jou was honestly surprised – but he shook it off. Kaiba probably told his brother literally everything. He nodded. “Yeah.” 

Mokuba turned to the secretary, whose glare had increased. “What’s my brother doing?” 

“Kaiba-shachou has asked not to be disturbed except for important business concerns,” the man replied. “I hardly think **he** would count.” 

Mokuba gave the secretary a cold glare. “Did you let him know that he had a visitor?” He demanded. 

“He asked not to be disturbed,” the secretary repeated stubbornly. 

“It seems like you have _forgotten_ the policy of sending him an internal memo with the identity of everyone who comes to see him, for security purposes,” Mokuba replied. “Perhaps you need to be sent away for some training?” 

The secretary paled slightly. “Perhaps I should get tea for the president and his guest…” 

“You’d better to that.” Mokuba glared at him until he fled. “Seto’s secretaries always get such delusions of grandeur after they have sex with him.” 

“…too much information,” Jou said. 

Mokuba laughed, going to open the large wooden doors. “Seto! Visitor!” Then he shoved Jou in and shut the door on them both. 

“Oh, it’s just you, Mutt,” Kaiba said. “I thought it might’ve been someone important.” 

Jou sighed. Usually he just got angry when Kaiba jerked him around – but after everything that had happened that day, he just couldn’t be bothered. 

“I’m not gonna take long. Your secretary sent me an email saying your office hours are between nine-thirty and five. Way to not be helpful. When are you actually free to be there?” 

Kaiba sat back in his chair. “I’m a very busy person.” 

Jou sighed. “I know that,” he replied. “That’s why I came to ask you if you had time to spare.” 

“…if?” Kaiba echoed, surprised. 

He didn’t reply to that. He slid the half-filled sheet towards the CEO across the polished wooden surface of the desk. “I filled the day-time. But I wanted to know your times when I try and figure out evening and overnight.” 

“Jounouchi,” the other said. “You’ve scheduled yourself twenty hours a day.” 

He shrugged and looked away. “Nobody wants to be there. I can’t… I know how it feels now. I can’t…” 

Kaiba was silent. He uncapped a fountain pen from the desk beside him and drew on the schedule, writing his name in neat, flowing characters. He pushed the paper back across the tabletop. “Was that all?” 

Jou picked it up, looking in disbelief as the changes sunk in. “Every night?” He had been planning to make everyone else volunteer overnight one night a week. 

“The only free time I have is when I’m sleeping,” Kaiba replied coolly. 

“…okay.” He stood, holding the paper to his chest. “Thanks, Kaiba…” 

“Don’t mention it,” he said aggressively. “Get out of here.” 

~*~ 

Jou texted everyone the hours they had to be at the house each day of the week. Then he grabbed the futon from his dad’s apartment, bought as many candles as he could afford, and headed back to the house. 

Atem was furious at him. He knew as much as soon as he crossed the threshold of the front door. The only real complaint he could tell was _boredom_ – he hadn’t expected to be stuck in the house for so long. 

Yuugi sent him home, and stayed with Jou until Ryou. They didn’t talk – there was no point. They knew what the other was thinking at the same time the other did. They lit candles, and the house reassured them that there would be no fire hazard. 

The house hadn’t had electricity in ten years – the last man who owned it hadn’t sold it properly and the bank owned the property right now. 

If Jou’s book sold, then maybe he’d have enough money to buy it. That thought pleased the house, and piqued Yuugi’s curiosity. For the first time, he shared his ideas with one of his friends. 

Yuugi’s genuine excitement for the story had him eager about it – not because it was Jou writing it, but because he wanted to experience it. 

When Ryou arrived – two minutes earlier than expected, Yuugi went home after demanding a copy when it was finished. 

Ryou’s head was filled with research and readings, so Jou gave himself over to let him study for his exam. 

Kaiba arrived shortly before midnight, the stocks and business plays clashing awkwardly with the poetry of Ryou’s reading Homer. Ryou quickly packed up to go, out of the door as fast as he possibly could. 

Jou was left trying to piece himself back together after being so tangled up with Ryou and being so abruptly cut off. 

Candles – the house didn’t have power – how could the house not have power? How was Kaiba meant to charge his laptop? – of course he’d brought his work him with him. He’d have to get a temporary generator – or they could just pay the electric company to come connect it – except they didn’t own the house so they – but Kaiba had bought the house from the bank earlier that afternoon. 

There was an echo of Jou’s earlier plans, now that they were dashed. 

Kaiba was disinterested in the book – but his curiosity got the better of him. Instead of just telling the ideas like he had with Yuugi – for which he blamed his tiredness – he let Kaiba into the world he was creating. 

Kaiba’s enthusiasm beat Yuugi’s. 

There was nothing new about the concept. A fantasy world, with dragons and their riders. 

But Kaiba weaved the world around him, smoothing the rough ideas and filling the hazy details. He didn’t touch the story – didn’t seem to much care what would happen. But together they finished building the world Jou had created. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he found himself startling to wake when Anzu’s thoughts bloomed to life. 

She was just in from her morning jog. 

*****

And that’s where this one ends. Who knows what would have happened from here. Do they get released from the house? Does Jou ever finish his book? Who ends up with who? 

I’ll leave it up to you to decide. 


	3. Kaiba is a dragon and he doesn't like Jou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jou, Kaiba, Yuugi, Atemu  
> Pairings: Current Yuugi/Atemu, future Jou/Kaiba.  
> Warnings: None really? Kaiba being a dick.

Thousands of years ago, dragons were the stuff of legend. Things for brave heroes to slay – for the gold, glory and princesses they protected. But then things changed – dragons emerged from their hiding places. Some sought acceptance by their human brethren, others sought to purge the weak vermin from the face of the earth. 

The wars that ensued were vicious, epic, heroic – and still happening. Almost all of humanity had retreated to a city of towers, relentlessly guarded by their dragon allies. 

There were seven sky-scrapers of gold and stone and crystal – the Rod, the Ring, the Eye, the Torque, the Key, the Scales and the Pyramid. Each had a battalion tribe of dragons that inhabited them and were sworn to protect them. Six of the towers ringed the perimeter of the city – but the Pyramid stood glorious and golden in the centre of the city, tallest of them all. 

That was where Jounouchi Katsuya, human, former resident of the Rod Quadrant, was headed now. A few weeks ago, he’d been having a video call with his friend Yuugi who lived there. The squat building he’d lived in all his life had been destroyed in an attack, and he found himself with nowhere to live. 

He had just been complaining, and letting his childhood friend know why he might be difficult to reach for a while. But one day later Yuugi had contacted him again – there was a home free in the Pyramid, belonging to a dragon he knew and trusted. 

It had taken a week for the transfer papers to go through. Now here he was, with the bag of things he’d managed to scrounge from the rubble. He gave his name to the stoic-faced dragon who guarded the door. 

He was given a temporary access pass and told to hurry to the 350 th floor, since it only lasted 20 minutes. 

“Your landlord will meet you there.” 

Jou nodded and, silently, went over to the elevators. It took a further few minutes to find the right one. A kindly old dragon woman, with a drakling on her hips, old him that he needed to take the first set of elevators up to the 300th floor – it only stopped every hundred – and there he could go from that set to another set of elevators on the other side of the atrium to the lift that stopped on every floor between 3o0 and 399. 

He was starting to think 20 minutes was not enough. 

He made it with probably thirty seconds to spare, squeezing out of the crowded elevator when a mechanical voice said “three-hundred-and-fiftieth floor” in a voice far too pleasant to be natural. The hallway he stepped out of was nicer than many he’d glimpsed through the elevator doors – but in no way the finest. 

The carpet was pristine white, patterned like dragon scales – the walls a crystalline sky blue. The only furniture was a plush cushion by a huge glass window that took up the entire wall. Doors and wall fixings – like the garbage chute and the dumb waiter – were a rich, deep sapphire blue metal. 

He stood awkwardly by the elevator doors for ten minutes, before giving up and going to sit in the soft white cushion. Hopefully his landlord would remember him sooner, rather than later. In the storm-ravaged sky, he watched dragons writhe around in the age old war dance. 

His eyes followed a pure white dragon – male, probably, by his smaller stature – grapple with a sludge-grey wyvern just below the cloud line. Eventually, he fell asleep. 

He was woken by the thud of a dragon-heavy body on the roof above him. Taking it to be his landlord, back at last, he heaved himself to his feet. 

The dragon that eventually came down the shadowy staircase and through the archway was half-transformed. He was tall by human standards, slender but with strong, broad shoulders. What could be seen of his skin was pale – but most of his humanoid body was covered in pure white scales. Wings, scaled to proportion, were poised behind him. Whatever coloured hair he might have had was a mystery – his head, though human-shaped, was covered by scales except for his face and the front of his throat. Two ivory horns protruded from either side of his temples, curling against his skull behind pointed ears. He wasn’t wearing clothes, but his scales hid his modesty well enough. Most of his front side was exposed skin, and the musculature of his torso was well-defined. 

He raised his eyes up to the dragon’s face and found slitted, steel-blue eyes glaring at him icily. 

“…hi,” he said awkwardly, “I’m your new tenant.” 

The dragon’s nostrils thinned and flared. “You should know, human, that I only allow you to stay here because my superior asked it of me.” 

Jou shifted slightly. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to dealing with dragons that were pissed off with him – but usually he’d done **something** to annoy them first. “Noted.” 

Somehow this dragon hated him already. 

“He begged for your shelter – so I am permitting that.” He went to a door and opened it with fingers tipped in dangerously lethal talons. “You are permitted to stay in this room,” the dragon continued. “That is all. Until I have decided that you are not a security threat, you are not permitted to use any of the public facilities. Is that understood?” 

“Yeah,” Jou replied, stepping towards the door. When confronted by a territorial dragon, the best thing to do was just comply. The dragon tracked his progress from the window into the apartment with eyes that never blinked. 

It was nice inside – in the same style as the hallway. The furniture was sparse but – surprise, surprise, made of the same metallic blue and painted white wood. The kitchen was adjoined to the living room, and through an open set of double sliding doors he saw a large bed – big enough for a dragon. 

“When do your other possessions arrive?” The dragon demanded impatiently, standing in the doorway. 

Jou tugged self-consciously at the bag hanging over his shoulder – slitted eyes tracked the movement. “This is it,” he answered. “Nothing else got out of the rubble.” 

The dragon turned abruptly away. “Any household necessities you require can be purchased from the datapad in the kitchen. IF there are any other problems…” He paused, and then said, “find a way to deal with them.” He turned then and strode out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. 

~*~ 

Yuugi’s apartment was much nicer than Jou’s was – and it felt less sterile. He’d only called his friend to let him know he was moved in. But in that way Yuugi always had, Jou had found himself on his way to his friend’s apartment, accompanied by the optimistic company that was Yuugi. 

The apartment was on the highest residency floor. Above those were the floors devoted to the Pyramid’s Dragon Guard. The fact that Yuugi lived so high up was the only sign he had a partner so high in the Pyramid’s hierarchy. 

Jou didn’t have an access pass yet – hadn’t had time before his landlord fled to even ask about it – but Yuugi had stolen/borrowed his partner’s all-access pass. He came down, looked around Jou’s apartment, smiled and said it was a big improvement on his last place. 

They took the elevator down to 300, then the express elevator up to 2500, then he last elevator to 2599. The floor was smaller than Jou’s – cause of the pointy shape of the building – but theirs was the only apartment. 

The door opened. A tanned, handsome humanoid dragon stood just inside the door. The round pupils constricting into slits was the only indication he got that the guy was a dragon. 

“Yuugi,” the dragon spoke – his voice deep and self-assured. “Is this your friend Jounouchi?” 

“It is.” Yuugi smiled and left Jou’s side to sand with his partner. He was immediately wrapped in muscular arms. “Atemu, this is my best friend Jou. Jou this is my partner Atemu.” 

“Yo,” he said simply. He knew dragons were territorial, and preferred their personal space – so he didn’t venture forth any new movements. 

A single eyebrow rose, and Atemu removed one arm from Yuugi, offering a hand out for Jou to shake. 

Jou took the offer, moving forward and shaking the dragon’s hand firmly. “Good to finally meet you.” 

The dragon’s lip turned up at the corner in a smile that was more smirk than warmth. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Please come inside.” 

Jou enjoyed his afternoon with Yuugi. The dragon sat constantly between them, moving into a protective gesture every so often when Jou seemed to pose any kind of threat to his partner. 

After dark, and the approach of curfew, Jou rose to leave. Atemu stood, taking up the access pass to indicate he would be the one to accompany Jou back to his apartment. 

“Yuugi,” he said. “I like this friend of yours. He may visit us often.” 

Jou raised his eyebrows silently and followed Atemu out of the apartment. They were silent most of the way. 

“You do not understand the nature of the relationship between Yuugi and I. I saw that in your eyes tonight.” 

“He seems happy,” was all he said in reply to that. 

A genuine warm smile crossed the dragon’s expression, teeth blunt and human. “He is. I ensure that.” 

Jou just nodded silently. He didn’t understand Atemu’s overprotectiveness, or why Yuugi allowed it, but that was between them. 

As soon as the empty elevator opened with a bland announcement for his floor, a deep threatening growl cut the air. Jou stepped out of the elevator, meeting the glowing, slitted eyes of his landlord. 

“Good evening, Kaiba.” Atemu’s voice greeted, low liquid velvet. 

A low snarl was the response he got. Jou stepped out from between them, heading over to the door of his apartment. The door was locked, so he waited for the end of the subvocal growling argument between the two dragons. 

Though Atemu was the shorter of the two, his landlord’s posturing was defiant enough that Jou could tell Atemu outranked him. 

Eventually Atemu rolled his eyes, signalling the end of the argument. He strode over to the large window, swiping his access pass to open it. He transformed into a large, dark-coloured dragon – his scales were a metallic sort of colour that was hard to pin down. As he shifted in the light they looked purple or burgundy red or shining gold. Jou only got a glimpse of him before he launched into the air, and the white dragon stepped aggressively in front of him. 

“I told you not to endanger anyone by leaving the apartment,” he growled. 

“You told me to stay out of public areas,” he replied. “I didn’t. I went to visit Yuugi. At his invitation.” 

The dragon – Kaiba, he recalled Atemu calling him – growled. “You could have endangered him!” 

Jou raised his eyebrows. “You think Atemu is incapable of protecting his partner?” 

Kaiba opened his mouth to argue, sharp teeth flashing in the light. Then he faltered, paused, and snapped his mouth closed. His eyes narrowed dangerously. “And what of all the people you travelled in the elevator with?” He demanded. 

“I’m not dangerous!” Jou protested, his temper catching. 

“ **That** ,” Kaiba answered coldly, “has yet to be determined. Stay inside your apartment. If I was going to permit you to move around, I would have given you an access pass.” 

Jou took an angry breath. “Hard to do that when I’m still locked out of my apartment.” 

Kaiba growled at him, then turned toward the door. His wings were a hair’s breadth away from smacking Jou in the face. It was a known aggressive manoeuvre, and he found himself confused as to _why_ the dragon had missed. 

Kaiba bumped his access pass, peculiarly shaped and coloured like a card-back, against the doorknob and then shoved it open. “Get in. Stay in. No arguments.” 

Jou shoved past him. He thought about checking him with his shoulder, but – considering Kaiba hadn’t cuffed him with his wing – he resisted the urge. As soon as he was clear of the door, it slammed shut with a mechanical click as the lock engaged. 

“What a jerk,” Jou mumbled to himself. Figuring he wasn’t getting any food delivered, he went to the cupboards the see what he had in stock. 

The kitchen, as he’d discovered while moving in, was fully equipped. He’d used the datapad propped on the kitchen counter to order the cheapest ‘welcome to your new home’ kit. It had arrived with cleaning basics, cheap linens, and a selection of instafood he’d shoved in the cupboard without a glance. 

He pulled them out now, frowning at the black printed words on the paper packets. He grabbed what said _‘wheat meal’_ and ‘ _meat substitute_ ’. 

The meat substitute said ‘ _dry heat until soft_ ’ and the wheat meal said ‘ _mix with 1cp of warm water and stir_ ’. There was an instant processor that supposedly did it all automatically, but he had no idea how to figure out all the buttons. 

So he fried the meat on a skillet until it turned to jelly, and stirred the wheat meal in warm water until it plumped into something that resembled a biscuit. 

They both tasted like sand, but most importantly they filled the hole in his stomach. After that, there was nothing much to do other than sleep. 

~*~ 

By day three, he was going stir-crazy. He woke at dawn every morning, stretched through some slow kata sequences, then headed into the closet of a bathroom. The shower was waterless, using vibrations and lasers to sluice off sweat and dead skin. He had breakfast – with a protein substitute that stunk of rotten eggs if heated for even a second too long, and a sort of rice gruel. 

After breakfast, he tried to entertain himself with the datapad – though that was utterly tedious by lunch on the second day. Lunch’s instafood was labelled ‘salad substitute’ and was a green goop that tasted the closest to what it was supposed to be. 

After lunch he called Yuugi to talk, then his old buddy Honda – the next day he called Yuugi again, and his sister – and then both days he did he did his weekly kata sequences until dinner. After dinner he showered again and went to sleep. 

By lunch on the third day, he’d had enough. 

The tiny trashbin was full. He picked out the bag, tugged it closed, then stormed over to the door. It was still locked. Angry, he left the bag by the door. He went to the datapad in the kitchen and ordered another box of instafood. He paid a little extra fee to have a messenger to bring it directly to his door instead of sending it up to the dumb waiter. 

He yelled for them to just leave it outside, then when he heard the elevator leave he got to work. He violently thumped on the door with his fists. “Kaiba!” he bellowed. “Open this fucking door!” 

It was only moments before he heard stomping footsteps outside, and a low-pitched growl. The lock beeped and disengaged. Before Kaiba could push the door, he yanked it open and tossed the trashbag at him. The dragon’s reflexes ensured he caught it, but the unexpected object stumbled him out of his attack instincts. 

“I need access to my own front door!” he snarled at his landlord. Then without waiting for an answer, he picked up his box and slammed the door again. The lock engaged automatically and he stomped off to his kitchen. 

Your move, Kaiba. 

It was hours until he heard movement outside his door. He’d been cooking – using real food and actual ingredients – so by the time he’d had a moment to spare to go to the door, Kaiba was long gone. 

An access pass, shaped like an old-fashioned key, was sitting innocently on the ground. He found it difficult to resist the urge to immediately use it to escape. 

Dragons took ages to trust. Running was exactly what Kaiba expected, no doubt. He would’ve keyed his access to his own door alone. It was his best chance to prove he wasn’t as Kaiba expected him. 

Gritting his teeth, he turned back and resumed his dinner. He controlled himself. The next morning, after his shower, he gathered up his laundry. Bunching up all his used things into a netlike bag, he went carefully to his front door. 

He held the access pass to the doorknob, smiling in relief when he heard the lock disengaging. He opened it and stepped out into the hallway. 

A deep growl from the large cushion was his only greeting. He nodded in Kaiba’s direction, walking purposefully toward the laundry chute. 

He dropped the laundry bag down the chute, then turned back to his apartment. He could feel the dragon’s eyes on him. 

~*~ 

It was three weeks before his landlord permitted him, under supervision, to go down to the public areas on floor 300. Most of the time, it was Kaiba himself who went with him – but a few times he deemed Atemu suitable for it. 

Those days were the best, when Yuugi hung with him and it was almost like they were high school kids, hanging out in the Rod’s public basement levels. 

By two months, he finally got permission from Kaiba to leave the Pyramid itself. 

“Really?” Jou asked, eager. “On my own?” 

“You’ve proven that you do not have malevolent intentions,” Kaiba replied, his voice very begrudging. “You will, of course, be required to log your activity before leaving the apartment.” 

“Great!” 

Kaiba glared at him. “You cannot leave the district.” 

“It’s fine. The sunlight is enough.” He smiled at the dragon, ignoring the hardening glare. “When does the activation key release?” 

“After the projected itinerary has been approved.” 

“Gotcha. Trip-by-trip approval.” He grinned to himself. 

He already had plans. He’d have a big lunch with all of his friends at one of the fancy places the Pyramid District was known for. Then he’d arrange a private meeting with Mai and catch up on everything properly. 

Kaiba squinted at him suspiciously, still standing on the doormat outside of the threshold. Jou gave him a curious look. “Was there anything else?” 

The dragon’s jaw clenched. “If I find out that your trips have endangered anyone, I’ll revoke the privileges I have generously granted you.” 

“And here I thought you were beginning to trust that I’m not part of some intricate subterfuge.” Jou rolled his eyes. 

“I haven’t been wrong before,” he said pridefully. “But there is a first time for everything.” On that note, the dragon turned on his heel and strode away down the corridor. 

****** 

Ah, this one actually hurts to put in the graveyard. I adore it, the world setting, and the plot I’d imagined following from this one. In time, I might drag this out and make a fic of its own. But for now, it rests here. 

While out to lunch with Mai, a dragon attacks the district. Jou manages to fight them off while the Dragon Guard arrives, since he’s a previous member of the now disbanded Human Guard. Kaiba loses his mind because he was definitely right about Jou being in danger. Atemu forces Kaiba to realise that Kaiba doesn’t want to protect people from Jou, he wants to _protect Jou_. Kaiba’s dragon instincts are all over the place, and that’s why he can’t fully transform into his humanoid form. And they’ve chosen Jou as his ‘Princess’ – an old fashioned term for the human that a dragon has taken under their protection. Kaiba’s instincts won’t calm down until he’s accepted them – so Jou agrees to be his Princess so he doesn’t get kicked out of the Dragon Guard. 


	4. That One Dragon Rider AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Hey look I even did some characters in dollmaker](http://etiolxte.tumblr.com/post/147117768133/dragon-riders-au-jou-and-lots-of-badass-ladies)
> 
> Characters: Jou, Amane, Kaiba, Thief King Bakura, Shizuka, Yuugi  
> Pairings: None  
> Warnings: Fantasy violence, mentioned injuries, scars.

Chase The Skies – Riders of Domino 

  


Jou, Pilot -> Yougen (he/him) 

Kaiba, Lancer -> Kisara (she/her) 

Amane, Wing Commander -> Faysel (he/his) 

Touzokuou, Lancer -> Diabound (they/their) 

Malik, Wing Commander -> Slyfer (xe/xeir) 

Atemu, Prince -> Ra’a (he/his) 

Yuugi, Commodore -> Kuriboh (he/his) 

Anzu, Corporal -> Mana (she/her) 

Mai -> Elektra (she/her) Lancer 

Honda 

Otogi 

Rebecca 

Ryou, Ground Commander -> No Dragon 

Shizuka, Mage -> No Dragon 

Chain of Command 

Marshall -> Commodore -> Captain -> Wing Commander -> Corporal -> Lancer -> Pilot 

^*^ 

Jou hated those guys. They didn’t have a name, officially, but he liked to call them ‘The Smug White Dragon Bastards’. Wing Commander Amane Bakura was alright on her own (assuming she wasn’t currently kicking his ass in combat training), but the group were dicks. 

Jus because they had white dragons, it seemed to give them a sense of entitlement. Around these parts, it was said that white dragons were the rarest and most powerful dragons of them all. 

It was a bunch of bullshit if you asked him. 

On the other side of his link, Yougen snorted with amusement. 

Most of the riders around here were born and raised here in The Dome, the only time they left was on the back of a dragon. Their dragons all came from a crèche, and they’d never starved. Their opinions of the outside world were generally barbaric and savage – but almost none of them had crossed the dragon wilds, let alone went all the way to the thriving cities along the coast where Jou had grown up. 

He was an outsider. Everyone knew and almost everyone treated him like a trained monkey. He was glad his sister didn’t get the same – but she was a ‘ _trusted mage_ ’ and not a ‘ _thick-skulled brute who couldn’t follow a command even if he tried_ ’. Or so said his previous Wing Commander. 

Amane was one of the few who treated him just like everyone else. He enjoyed behind under her Wing Force. He may be just an outsider Pilot, but she didn’t treat him like an idiot. 

The other members of the SWDB, however… 

“Watch where you’re going, loser dog.” 

He met the icy blue eyes with a hard glare, but held his tongue. As usual, Lancer Kaiba’s eyes darted around his face before looking away. 

Nobody knew where to look – there were only a handful of people who would look him in the eyes. 

The third and final member of the SWDB, shorter than Jou but rippling with muscles, tilted his head back and let out a mocking laugh. Lancer Touzokuou, who never spoke to anyone except to call them a fool or a bastard. He cut past Jou, smacking their shoulders together. 

Jou had just about enough of them. And he’d only been part of their squadron for two weeks. The Dome was rife with politics and power plays and he’d had just about enough of it. 

Yougen perked up as he recognised the direction of his thoughts. [ _Fly?_ ] 

[Fly.] He sent an image of the launch bay where they were to meet, then headed towards the Atrium. 

The Dome was the headquarters of the Domino Dragon Knights- built in…or more accurately, carved into the insides of a mostly-dormant volcano. Built like a beehive, the openings were large enough for even the oldest dragons to land. 

The high ranks of the most successful squadrons were given rooms towards the upper levels of the hive. Amane’s squadron was one of the best, but Jou was one of the lowest of the lowest rank. His rooms were sort of in the middle, but it wasn’t far from one of the launching bays. 

Yougen was already waiting for him there. He gave a low rumble in greeting, then got up onto his feet. Jou crossed to his side. The pink of his healing scars stood out in sharp contrast to the black scales. 

It was an easy step up from his dragon’s leg onto his seat, settled just in front of the wing joint. A few milling riders gave him a distasteful look – all of the Dome-born riders used saddles, sitting behind the wing, closer down to the tail. 

He held onto Yougen’s horns, holding himself tight with his thighs, as the dragon launched up like a shot towards the hole at the top of the volcano and towards the blue sky. 

They slid closer together along the link until their senses merged. Yougen loved the feeling of the wind rushing through Jou’s hair, and the colour yellow through human eyes. 

They flew until there was nothing but the thrill of the skies – until they could forget how stifling they found life in The Dome. 

A scent caught at Yougen’s nostrils – they darted his tongue out to taste the air. 

[ _Faysel_.] They thought it in unison. 

A large white dragon, maned in feathery down, swooped down from the sky and begun herding them back toward the mouth of the volcano. 

Riders and dragons were mobilizing, riders half in armour and dragons belting up their saddles. 

He touched down, senses de-tangling before Jou stepped onto the stone floor. “What’s going on?” 

“Scout dragons spotted a flight of ice drakes coming up from the southern ice shelf,” Amane replied, her tone clipped. 

“So they’re migrating,” Jou said, confused. 

“Maybe,” she snapped. “It’s too early in the year. King Ahknemkanon wants us out, discouraging them from our territory.” 

“Alright. I’ll get-” 

“No, you nothing,” she snapped. “You’re grounded.” 

“What?! Amane, let me go out!” 

“ _Pilot Jounouchi_ ,” she cut him off, her beautiful face cold and unrelenting. “Your dragon just landed.” 

“We’re good to go again!” he insisted. 

“Pilot Jounouchi, you are neither of you cleared to fly with our squadron,” she snapped. “Go back to your quarters and clear the damned landing bay.” 

[ _Jou, we’d better do as she says._ ] 

He clenched his jaw tightly and bowed. “Yes, Wing Commander Bakura.” Yougen hopped off the landing bay and coasted down toward their rooms. Jou had half a mind to jump after him – Yougen would catch him, and it sounded better than all those stairs. But instead he walked through the clambering ranks of the squadron. 

He ignored Touzokuou slamming shoulders with him, walking off the bay, down the atrium stairs to the opening of their rooms. 

Yougen was sprawled, half-on Jou’s bed, wings spread out to cool down. 

“Bed hog,” Jou complained. 

[ _There’s plenty of room for you_.] 

He proved so by stripping off his chaps and collapsing onto he pallet bed beside him. “I can’t believe she didn’t let us go with the squadron. It wasn’t even into battle.” 

[ _Faysel says she is worried about us._ ] 

“That we’re a liability?” 

[ _That we’re still injured_.] 

He huffed. “Riders here are such prisses. Rintama rode with two broken arms and a stab wound. Amane benched someone the other day for an ingrown toenail.” 

[ _I will continue to tell Faysel that we are ready for active service._ ] 

“Are you hungry yet, Yougen? Dinner service is about to start in the mess hall.” 

[ _Tired. We can sneak down to the kitchens later._ ] 

“Mm…” Jou closed his eyes and they were asleep within seconds. 

He jolted awake later. It was dark out through the atrium. It made him tense immediately. Even when the sun set, there were always sconces burning with dragon fire. Yougen was tense beside him. 

[What’s going on?] He asked his dragon, not daring to make noise by speaking aloud. 

[ _I don’t know_ ,] Yougen replied. [ _Everybody smells asleep. But it’s too early, and never does every person sleep._ ] 

[Something is wrong.] He stood up, padding barefoot to the opening. 

Yougen picked Jou up, floating down as silently as possible. [ _I smell darkness._ ] 

Some riders would argue that darkness didn’t have a smell. Jou only tensed up. [Is it Them?] 

[ _Tread carefully_.] 

A Lancer passed out against the wall had a sword drawn. Jou memorized his face and stole the sword from his grip and snuck closer. The air got colder this way, so he followed the chill. 

It led to the throne room. King Ahknamkanon was slumped in his throne. A huge, hulking black dragon loomed over him, black smoke rising from the king’s unconscious body and into the dragon’s gaping mouth. 

[It’s Them.] Jou sent, trying to quell his rising panic. [Go get Faysel.] 

[ _Jou. Stay safe. Outrun._ ] Both of them knew it was unlikely he would survive this. But he could give them all time. He felt Yougen fly away. 

He knelt down, picking up a dropped goblet. He tossed the cup directly at the hulking beast’s head. “Hey!” he shouted. “You missed someone!” 

An angry rumble built low in the dark dragon’s throat and they began to untangle from around the king’s throne. 

Jou turned tail and ran, jumping over slumped bodies and turning every corner he could to throw them off. 

[ _I caught up to them!_ ] Yougen called, voice clear along the link. [ _Keep going, Jou!_ ] 

His energy was flagging. He took a deep breath, hunkered down and ran faster. The hives were too confusion, he burst out on the atrium – the last place he wanted to be. 

Behind him, Jou heard them launch up into the air. The hard body slammed him back and down, talons clenching tight around his body. He wheezed, trying to breathe. 

He waited until rotting, freezing breath gusted across his face before he thrust the sword upwards. They howled in pain. 

[ _We’re almost there!_ ] 

Jou didn’t get to answer. He was picked up and thrown into the nearest wall. 

~*~ 

As soon as he woke up, Yougen was immediately flooding the link with irritation that did nothing to disguise the relief. 

[I’m sorry I got caught, Yougen. I tried.] 

Beside the bed, the dragon huffed in irritation. 

“Is he awake then, Yougen?” He knew that voice. 

He struggled to open his eyes, giving a weak smile as the blurry form of his sister slowly swam into view. 

She reached forward and flicked his nose: “ **That** is for almost getting yourself killed!” 

He groaned, scrunching up his sore nose. “What do I get for single-handedly taking on one of the most powerful darkness dragons in the world?” 

“A slap, when you’re recovered.” She glared at him in disapproval. “What the hell were you thinking?” 

“Everybody else was asleep!” he argued. “Besides. I’d faced them before.” 

Her eyes went wide. “You mean it was…?” He nodded. “Shit.” 

“What happened after I got knocked out?” He asked, trying to push himself up onto weak limbs. 

“I don’t know exactly,” she replied. “I don’t have the clearance to know. They made a statement about the incident, but it was a lot of diplomatic nonsense that didn’t really say anything.” 

“Hm.” He shakily a hand through the hair at the back of his head. “Alright. Yougen? We’d better go check in.” 

“You’re **supposed** to be on bed rest, big brother,” Shizuka said disapprovingly. 

He snorted. “Alright. I’ll get right on that.” He couldn’t stand up on his own, legs too weak. But with his dragon’s help, he managed to settle onto his back in his normal seat. He held on tight to the horns and looked down at Shizuka. “I’ll come visit you when I get some time. I promise.” 

She rolled her eyes and went to open the door for them. “You gotta tell me what’s going on, alright?” 

“I’ll send Yougen as soon as I can.” 

He got a number of strange looks as he walked from the healers’ rooms atop his dragon. Almost everyone walked alone in these parts, occasionally with their dragon beside them. He sat tall, kept his head high. 

[Where’s Faysel?] 

[ _He’s in a meeting with Kuriboh_.] 

[Take us there,] Jou said, and clung on tightly. 

Yougen stepped out into the artrium and launched up into the air. Jou had only been to the Commodore’s chambers once, when Wing Commander Bakura was asking permission to take him into her squadron. 

The room was beautiful, but they barely touched down before the shaggy brown dragon stood and growled at them. 

Amane’s glare hardened on him. “You’re supposed to be on bed rest.” 

“I was.” 

“You haven’t been cleared for flying yet!” 

“Commander,” the Commodore interrupted. “Let it be. I have some questions for Pilot Jounouchi. We can return him to his regular quarters after that.” He gestured Jou to a seat. “Sit. We’ll have a discussion while we wait for Ground Commander Bakura.” 

Both Commander Bakuras in one place? It must be serious. 

It was hard work to get down from Yougen’s back and move into the seat, even with the dragon’s assistance. “What do you want to know?” 

The Commodore poured him a cup of tea. “Why don’t you explain what happened two weeks ago?” 

_Two weeks?!_ “I’d been out on a flight with Yougen, and when we landed, Wing Commander Bakura grounded me from going on the ice drake mission with the squadron. We returned to our quarters before dinner and fell asleep. When we woke up, it was dark in the atrium – we knew something was wrong. We went to investigate – Yougen said he could smell darkness. I followed the col and found them – a shadow dragon – feeding from the King. Is he okay?” 

“What happened after that? Commander Amane Bakura’s report claims you battled the dragon alone while Yougen went for backup.” 

“Sort of. Not really. It wasn’t much of a battle. I gave chase around the hive for a while to buy us time. I only managed to get a hit in when he tried to feed on me.” He shrugged. Then paused, “Uh… the sword. I kind of stole it from a—” 

“Lancer Sawatari got his sword back, yes,” the Commodore interrupted. If Jou didn’t know better, he’d think he was impressed. 

“What the hell possessed you to antagonize the shadow dragon?” Amane demanded. 

“I faced them before – that one, I mean.” Absently, he reached up to touch the bottom of one of his scars, fingers cold on the skin of his neck. “When I was with the Rintama gang in Portown.” 

The Commodore’s brows drew together. 

“Please… what’s happened since then? He threw me into the wall.” 

Amame’s mouth thinned. “Lancer Kaiba managed to hold the dragon off until the rest of our squadron arrived. We chased them off, but there could be a second attack at any moment.” 

“And…the king?” 

“At present, he’s failed to wake up,” the Commodore said. 

***** 

And that’s that one! From this point, Jou has to _thank_ Kaiba for saving him (eugh!). He gets promoted to Lancer because of his fight against Zork. Who knows, maybe mating season comes around and Kisara decides she will have no one but Yougen. 

The rest of the story is up to you! 


	5. Arts School AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jou, Kaiba, Unnamed Lecturer  
> Relationships: None, probably future Jou/Kaiba.  
> Warnings: None.

Jou opened the door of the loft, dragging the broken suitcase behind him. It was dusty and dim, only orange light from the street outside spilling through the huge factory windows. He took a deep breath and looked around. 

For now, the place was empty. He had a futon and a bunch of candles – that would do for now. He would put up a flier at the school tomorrow, looking for a few flatmates. The rent was crazy for what it was, but it was two blocks away from the school. 

It took hours to get to sleep – the sounds of midcity were nothing new, but the silence in the apartment was. There was no snoring, or the drone of the TV at all hours of the day. He didn’t get to sleep until a car alarm on the street below started blaring. 

For breakfast, he picked up a bagel that tasted like grit and coffee that tasted like sludge. But it cost him a whole dollar so he wasn’t going to complain. Much. 

Jou went to the school, keeping his head bowed to avoid making eyes contact with anyone. 

The billboard was already crowded with club sign ups, band auditions, open mike nights, instrument tutoring – as well as at least twenty other fliers for open rooms for rent. His own hand-written note on lined paper looked rough, but at least is stood out among all the printed A4 white pages. 

The opening assembly of the school year performing an impressive opening number – and the dean making some speech disproving the old adage ‘ _those who can’t do, teach_ ’. His first class was Hip-Hop, which was fun – hard but rewarding when he got it. Contemporary was the next slot, and that was harder. Lunch time was accompanied by an impromptu ‘jam’ session with all the music students. 

It left him with a headache that he drowned with coffee from the vending machine for a quarter. It somehow managed to taste even **worse** than the one from the vendor earlier that morning, but it kicked his headache in the nads. 

After lunch hour was the mandatory Theatre Production elective every student at Millennium Arts School has to attend. 

The theatre was grand and shiny with gold. Much nicer than the auditorium they had been in earlier, but this was probably the only time he’d get to see the place. He sat behind the last row of students, sinking low and hoping to avoid the notice of the teacher. 

This wasn’t like dance where he could let his body do the talking and his merits be earned based on his abilities. He needed booksmarts for this class – and dance history – but maybe the best option was not to draw attention to himself and cram hard enough to skate by with passing marks. 

The lecturer was droning on, in the most overblown dramatic voice he’d ever heard, about how a theatre was the most hallowed tradition of all history. It was extremely irritating, and he scribbled shapes into the margins of his notebook. 

Ten minute into the lesson, he jumped as he saw the seat next to him was suddenly filled by a tall burnet carrying a large cup of coffee that smelt divine. “Did I miss much?” 

He stared at him a moment, then gestured at the blank page of his notebook. “What do you think?” 

“Excuse me,” the lecturer said impatiently. “Chatter monkeys in the back row. Get to your feet.” 

The brunet gave an irritated noise and set aside his coffee cup, getting to his feet. Jou rose, holding the notebook in front of him as a last line of defense. 

“Names.” 

“Seto Kaiba.” 

A wave of murmurs spread out from them towards the teacher standing on the stage. She looked cold for a moment. 

“Well, Seto Kaiba,” she said angrily. “Do you believe that my class is unimportant?” 

“All of the classes at M.A.S. are important for the education of its students,” he replied in an unreadable tone of voice. 

“Then do you care to explain why you decided to show up ten minutes into the lesson?” 

“Placement examinations for my classical piano courses,” he answered, “they ran a bit longer than expected.” 

“Which may be an acceptable excuse,” the lecturer continued, “but does not explain why you proceeded to talk and further interrupt my lesson.” 

“Well, Ms. I was asking what I’d missed so far.” He turned to Jou. “You were sharing your notes with me.” 

The blond nodded. Man, this guy was smooth as fuck. 

The two of them were told to sit back down and she resumed the lesson, with all her unnecessary bravado. Jou continued to scribble in his notebook, occasionally glancing at ‘Kaiba’ next to him. The brunet kept his eyes on the lecturer, occasionally taking sips from his coffee cup – long after it should have gone cold or run out. 

After class, Jou couldn’t remember a single word the lecturer had said. He stuffed his notebook into his bookbag and hurried out of the theatre, going the long way out so he didn’t have to step over Kaiba. 

One the way to Dance History, he checked the billboard. He was disappointed to see that none of the tabs with his phone number on them had been taken off. Explained why his phone had been quiet all day. 

He could cover rent alone in the loft for two months, but after that… 

He was jittery throughout his Dance History class, moving his feet to a beat they’d used in Hip Hop earlier. The student in the seat next to him kept giving him annoyed looks every two minutes or so. 

*****

I am ninety percent sure I started this after watching Raise Your Voice, given the scene in the assembly. 

Anyway, this turned into a much longer Ballet School AU that I enjoyed much more, so we never got more of Dancer!Jou and Pianist!Kaiba.


	6. Jou works for Mokuba/Lifedebt thing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jou, Mokuba, Kaiba  
> Pairings: None really, eventual puppyshipping if it was ever finished.  
> Warnings: Depression, illness, terrible coping mechanisms.

He sees the littlest Kaiba, bizarrely, at Burger World, five minutes after he’s clocked out of his shift. He hasn’t seen either of them since the whole thing with the Millennium Items. He’d read in the newspaper, a couple months back, that Kaiba Land: Australia had officially been launched and Kaiba – presumably with his younger brother in tow – was returned to Domino City to work on its next big product. 

Mokuba is seventeen now, taller than even his older brother had been, and with that lanky, disproportionate look that tells he hasn’t quite finished growing yet. 

“Jounouchi!” he says with welcome surprise. “Is that really you?” 

“Yep,” Jou replies, smiling. He’s exhausted down to his bones, but never too tired to reconnect with someone from his past. “Surprised you recognise me from all the way up there!” 

Mokuba grinned sheepishly. Dark grey eyes, more weary than they have any right to be, rove over his uniform. “You’re a chef here?” 

“Cook,” he corrects gently, unashamed of it. You need culinary school, and apprenticeships, to call yourself a ‘chef’. 

The distinction is lost on Mokuba, who’s probably hasn’t had anything that wasn’t prepared by a gourmet chef in ten years. 

Jou takes a moment to take a good look, running his eyes down Mokuba’s long, skinny frame. He’s dressed in the uniform of the elite high school in Domino City – crisp and white with the collar bordered in gold filigree. He can vaguely recall the older Kaiba in it his first few weeks at Domino High. The patrons are whispering about him and Jou thinks about how strange it is to see a Kokuyo High student in a place like this. 

“One of your fancy limos break down on the way home from school, Mokuba?” He asked uncertainly. 

A flash of nervousness crosses the student’s expression, before it’s replaced with a sort of bland smile that reveals nothing. “I was craving a burger – thought I’d stop by on my way to Nii-sama’s office.” 

Jou nods to the waitress who took Mokuba’s take-out order, and lingered to gape at them. She hurries off without taking any kind of payment from Mokuba. 

“Let me buy you dinner,” he said, though he’s already sent the waitress off to put it on his work tab. 

Mokuba doesn’t argue. When the food comes, scant two minutes later, the two of them walk over to a little zen fountain in the part across the road. 

“What’s really going on?” He asks, with all his characteristic bluntness. Mokuba’s mouth opens to deny it, but Jou cuts him off: “your shoes are scuffed.” 

Mokuba sighs and looks, for a long moment, so defeated. When he speaks, it’s with the relief of someone who has been bottling things up for far too long. “Nii-sama’s driver quit three days ago. I forgot my KaibaPhone this morning, so I couldn’t call for a taxi.” 

Kokuyo isn’t exactly in the kind of neighbourhood where you can just hail one, Jou supposed. “…And the pile of slop we serve as ‘burgers’…?” 

He sighed. “Nii-sama hasn’t hired a new chef yet…” 

Jou frowned. “Why don’t you tell me everything?” 

~*~ 

Kaiba rolled his shoulders back, relaxing into the leather seatback of his deskchair. He pushed the button for his intercom. “Get the head of accounting on the phone.” 

There was no answer. Glancing at his watch, a priceless but remarkable scuffed rolex: ten past five. Surely his new receptionist/P.A. hadn’t clocked out already! 

Rising to his feet, spine popping as it realigned. Perhaps he needed to take more breaks. He usually ate and held his business meetings via the new video-call technology all from his desk. 

He went to the door and opened it, angry. He faltered when he saw it deserted and dark, barely lit by the weak sunlight filtering through the eastern windows. 

Wait… _east?_ He raised his watch again. Not five pm then. He’d worked all through the night again. 

Oh well. He was just in time to get home, grab a coffee, bathe and redress before his brother woke up to get ready for school. Work may have been consuming his time of late, but he always tried to drive Mokuba to school in the mornings. The bumbling idiot of a driver was always late these days, anyway… 

He drove home in the sleek white Spyder, letting himself quietly into the kitchen. One foot inside, he was brought to a sudden and complete stop. He couldn’t believe the sight that greeted him in the previously pristine kitchen of white marble and shining stainless steel. He stared for a moment longer, then stepped back out into the garage and shut the door. 

Maybe he needed more sleep. He could usually go at least 72 hours without before the hallucinations set in, provided he got enough coffee. He couldn’t, at that moment, pinpoint _exactly_ when he’d slept last, but his hands – when he inspected them – were not nearly shaky enough for a third day without sleep. 

Concluding there was something else amiss – that he couldn’t possibly figure out without at least _two_ mugs of coffee – he stepped back inside. 

The sight hadn’t changed. 

Jounouchi “Loser Dog” Katsuya was standing in his kitchen, measuring cups of flour into a large mixing bowl. 

He had absolutely no explanation for it. So he moved past the mutt to the coffee pot that was blissfully filled with black ambrosia. 

When, at the end of his first mug, he blond failed to vanish between blinks like his other hallucinations did, he was forced to conclude that Jounouchi was actually there. 

By the end of his second mug, he had enough mental capacity to ask about it. “You’re getting dog hair in that pancake mix.” 

…close enough. 

“Oh, good, you’re alive,” the blond replied. “I was beginning to think that KaibaCorp had found a way to raise the dead.” 

He reached for the coffee pot and frowned when he saw it was empty. He glared at it, demanding some sort of explanation for why it defied him. He would have gone on staring, but t was taken out of his hands and put back under the drip. Short, callused fingers prodded the buttons and it began to groan as it worked. 

“Go take a shower, Moneybags,” an irritating voice grated along his brain. 

But he went anyway. An hour later, bathed, shaved, dressed and revived, he returned to the kitchen. 

“You’re still here.” 

“Do you want strawberry crêpes or lemon and sugar?” Was the only response he got. Jounouchi was standing behind the counter, arranging bits and pieces into a bento box of polished black ebony. 

“You’re not making crêpes,” Kaiba replied. 

“Not until Mokuba gets up,” the blond replied. “Right now I’m making him lunch for school.” 

“Where’s Chef Fiorelli?” He demanded. 

“From what Mokuba told me, that guy hasn’t worked here for a month.” 

Kaiba scowled. “Impossible. He made me bacon sandwiches yesterday.” 

“…Kaiba, that was me.” 

The CEO fell silent. He didn’t have any conclusive proof that it _was_ Fiorelli he’d spoken to yesterday, speeding out the door to get Mokuba to school on time. But that meant the mutt had been in his house _twice_ now without his permission. 

“Strawberry,” he answered. 

Then, peculiarly, Jounouchi laughed. The sound had him tensing up, and he glared until the sound stopped. 

Mokuba appeared, bright eyed and perky like the horrible morning person he was. “Good morning Nii-sama! Good morning Jounouchi!” 

“Mokuba,” Kaiba growled. “Why is there a dog in my kitchen?” 

“Nii-sama!” he scolded. “Don’t be rude to Jounouchi.” 

“Mokuba.” 

“I hired Jounouchi,” he replied, “as my driver and our chef.” 

“You already have a driver,” Kaiba replied impatiently. “That stupid guy. With the bowlcut.” 

“He quit two weeks ago,” he replied impatiently. 

“Why is everyone quitting?” He barked angrily. 

Mokuba bit his lip, hesitant, but Jounouchi answered without hesitation – apparently unphased by the fact he was interrupting someone’s private conversation. “Because you kept forgetting to pay them.” 

Kaiba glared at him. “I’ll forget to pay **you** ,” he threatened. 

“Mokuba already assumed you would, so he’s paid me a year in advance with a 1% share of KaibaCorp.” 

Kaiba’s rage was so consuming, all he could see for a long moment was sparks and whirling colours in front of his eyes. 

How _dare_ he? It was insulting enough that the mutt was _in his presence_ , and worse in his employ and worse _still_ in his actual house – but to give Jounouchi, third-rate duelist, loser, mutt, idiot _interest in his company._

“Nii-sama!” 

He tipped forward, everything going blissfully dark. 

~*~ 

Jounouchi jolted awake, not sure what had woken him. He groaned, sitting up and stretching out the cramp in his neck. He rubbed his eyes clear of sleep and looked around. 

Kaiba was awake. Startled, he paged the nurse on night duty, then went to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Kaiba?” He asked softly. “Are you with us?” 

Icy blue eyes narrowed at him dangerously, but the brunet didn’t seem to have enough energy to actually yell at him. 

“You’re in Domino Private. I’ll let the doctors explain.” 

The nurse came in, swiftly followed by Mokuba and the doctor. Jou crossed to the window, peeking out the curtains and let a shaft of moonlight in. The doctor’s technobabble was easy to tune out, as he explained to Kaiba what a friendly nurse had to dumb down for Jou yesterday. 

Kaiba, thanks to a lack of sleep, unhealthy amounts of coffee and too much stress, had a minor heart attack. At twenty-one. 

“A lifestyle change is in order, Kaiba-shachou,” the doctor said. He received a dismissive snort in reply. “No more overnights at the office, fuelled by caffeine, or skipped meals. You’ll have to exercise regularly. Your diet – when you actually do eat – seems to be fine. But you need to eat at least three times a day.” An aggravated noise. “I’m also prescribing you sleep aids and a vitamin supplement – just until your routine has changed. We’ll be keeping you overnight for observations, but you should be released in thirty-two hours.” 

“Just go away,” Kaiba croaked, irritated. Footsteps shuffled out of the room. “Mokuba…” 

“ _No,_ Seto,” Mokuba cut him, his voice angrier than Jou had ever heard it. “You told me things were getting better. You said when we came back to Japan that you were going to start working less. You _promised_ me this would stop!” 

“Mokuba, I’m trying…” 

“No you’re not!” Mokuba shouted. “You’re not even _trying_ , and I’ve had enou– where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

Jou – who, thinking it would be best to give the two brothers privacy, had begun to edge his way out of the room – froze in place. “Uhh…” 

“ _You_ stay put,” Mokuba commanded. 

“Mokuba…” Kaiba’s voice was a low growl of warning. 

The younger brother ignored the threat. “I’ve got choice left, Nii-sama.” His eyes locked on Jou’s. “Five years ago, my brother saved you from drowning by the docks at Battle City.” 

Jou frowned. “I remember.” 

“You said, and I quote: ‘ _I owe you one_ ’.” Mokuba continued. “I’m calling in that life-debt now.” 

He stiffened. “What…?” 

“Keep my brother alive until he’s stable enough to do it himself. Then you’re even.” 

Jou, lost for words, glanced at Kaiba for help. The older brother looked wrecked, and defeated, one arm thrown over his eyes. He thought about saying that Mokuba couldn’t call the terms of his brother’s lifedebt – but one look at the blazing determination in dark grey eyes told him arguing would be totally useless. 

He sighed. “Not like I have a choice, is it?” 

~*~ 

Explaining things to his staff was too much effort, so he didn’t. He wasn’t allowed to go back to work until he’d been cleared from psych-eval and health clearance. But that didn’t stop him from going to his office – so he went in, dressed in his battle coat, and standing tall. 

Jounouchi walked behind him, an obnoxious, irritating shadow. The ‘heel’ jokes had already grown old and stale. He had resorted to cold silence, and the blond had followed suit. 

After Kaiba went through all the departments, showing them all he was perfectly fine, he went – with a heavy weight of reluctance – back to the foyer to leave. 

The days, under Jou’s guidance, had taken on a kind of relentless routine. 

At exactly six-thirty in the morning, Jounouchi would come in to wake him up. If it had been a bad night, the alarm might still be shrieking – with Kaiba hiding his head under one of the pillows to block out the noise. 

Kaiba had been told, in different ways over the years, that waking him up was as Herculean a task as getting him to sleep was. Yet somehow the idiotic blond he was starting to find it difficult to hate managed it – every morning but Sundays. 

The task was usually accompanied by opening the curtains on the bleary-eyed CEO, and handing him a mug of black coffee. On bad mornings, it was turning the alarm off after thirty minutes, yanking the warm comforter off, and manhandling him into an icy-cold shower in the adjoined en suite. 

After Kaiba had showered and shaved and dressed, he went down to the kitchen – where Jounouchi would be making him whatever Westernised breakfast he’d chosen that morning. A mug of half-caff coffee, with three sugars, milk and a shot of caramel, would be waiting for him. 

Jounouchi, having put Kaiba’s plate in front of him, would then begin the intricate task of making Mokuba’s boxed lunch. 

At seven-forty-five, Mokuba would appear in the kitchen, dressed in the crisp white uniform of the best school in Domino that money could buy. His hair was getting too long, Kaiba thought every so often – and Mokuba hadn’t properly cut it since Then. It’s worn now, neat for school, in a long ‘fishtail’ braid down his back. 

Jounouchi usually laughed and joked with Mokuba, sunny and awful the two of them early in the morning. Sometimes, though, Jounouchi was quiet and sullen – barely speaking to the younger brother as he cooked breakfast and finished off lunch. 

After breakfast, the two Kaibas were sent back upstairs to brush teeth and – in Mokuba’s case – collect his schoolbag for school. 

After a month it was a driver who took Mokuba to school – and Kaiba to his psych eval. Jou would reappear afterwards to ensure he attended his doctor’s appointment, and exercise with his personal trainer at the private gym in the KC central offices. 

They would go to lunch after that, the idiotic blond glaring at him until he ordered something he deemed a proper meal. 

After lunch, Jounouchi would disappear again until he arrived at the mansion to cook dinner. Kaiba spent those precious few hours of solitude attempting to stave off the black despair of boredom. Reading, playing the piano, sketching designs – anything but real, fulfilling _work_. More often than not, he’ll reward himself for good behaviour with a delicious coffee. 

That day, however, was different. He’d arranged to visit the office – to see progress and prove to everyone that **yes** he is perfectly fine. Mokuba hadn’t trusted him, so Jounouchi had been instructed to accompany him and prevent him from actually working. 

The blond seemed as angry about it as Kaiba himself was. But instead of obnoxiously complaining about it like Kaiba had expected, Jou was completely silent. 

His presence was almost unobtrusive, until they left the office, and he gripped Kaiba’s arm to bring him to a stop. “Can we go through the park? I need to get something from that shop over there, and we might as well get dinner for you and Mokuba while we’re there.” 

Kaiba thought about telling him he could go alone, but in the end curiosity won out. They walked through the park, kicking little piles of orange leaves aside. The shop looked old and uninteresting – but he refused the mutt’s offer to stay outside just because he’d been the one to make it. 

It smelled musty and smoky in there, and Jou picked up a square of incense sticks to take up to the counter. Incense like the kind you burned at an altar for ancestors or kami. Kaiba felt his eyebrows rising, and he followed silently. 

“Running late this week?” The elderly man wheezed. “I was about to close up for the day.” 

“Sorry, Ojii-san,” Jounouchi murmured politely, digging some coins out of his pocket. “I was busy at work this afternoon. Thank you for staying open for me.” 

Incense carefully tucked in a carrying bag, Jounouchi stepped back out onto the street. 

“Who…?” 

“Yami no Yuugi,” Jou cut him off, with a tone of voice that clearly conveyed he was not going to say anything further. 

Kaiba turned away sharply, clenching his jaw. “Go,” he snapped. “I will take Mokuba out to dinner tonight.” 

But even dismissing him was temporary. At the ridiculous hour of nine-thirty, Mokuba sent him upstairs to bed. There, as always, silently waiting, was Jounouchi again. Holding a days-of-the-week pillbox and his tongue. Silk pyjamas, vitamin tablet, toothpaste, mouthwash, sleeping pill, bed. 

Jounouchi would silently inspect his mouth, to ensure he’d swallowed, then go away to sit and wait for him to sleep. Kaiba had, spitefully, taken out every chair from his room two days in – but Jou sat on the floor with his back pressed up against the wooden door to the hallway. 

At 10pm, Kaiba was asleep. But having checked the security feeds, he knew that Jounouchi checked he was asleep, sent Mokuba off to bed – homework completed or not – and left. 

So the mind-numbing drudgery of day-to-day went on. The only thing Kaiba had to look forward to was the day he was cleared to go back to work, and he could start doing something useful again. 

~*~ 

Beneath the swooping shoulders and dramatic flare of the coats – styled on old samurai kimono – Kaiba Seto was remarkably skinny. Even the crisp business suits – white more often than not but _always_ containing some blue – were tailored to broaden his frame. 

Jou thought about his own jackets he wore in high school – the broad, square silhouette and the lapels that hung around his figure. He knew he’d been trying to disguise his skinny, underfed figure. But what about Kaiba? 

The CEO had always seemed larger than life. The intelligence and the money and the tragic backstory and the awe-inspiring technology and the _dramatics_. Backs then, Kaiba had seemed as fantastic and unbelievable as the other Yuugi was. He’d _fit_ those bried months of darkness and heroics. When the CEO had disappeared, white Kaiba Coat and all, after Atemu had walked away, it just seemed natural. 

Now Jou had seen him in silk pyjamas that fitted his beanpole frame, glaring blearily into his coffee mug because that super-powered brain couldn’t figure out that drinking his coffee made it disappear. 

Kaiba Seto was painfully, unmistakably human. 

And once Jou had discovered that, it became too hard to cling on to that old, petty hatred. Older and, to everyone’s surprise, wiser, Jounouchi Katsuya could accept that most of his dislike had been founded on wounded pride and jealousy. 

Kaiba had never been _nice_ to him, not even Mokuba could claim that. But who in his life – other than Yuugi – really had been? Anzu had been well-meaning of course, but the ‘harried mother’ routine could never work on a guy that had to basically raise himself. Honda… well, both of them had met in a group where trading insults meant you weren’t getting punch d – and getting punched meant that you _probably_ weren’t getting stabbed. The less said about Otogi the better. Bakura had meant well, but showing him bleeding arm wounds and pretending his crush was dead had not sat well with him. Even Mokuba… 

Well, Mokuba had tried to kill him once, spent ages referring to him as ‘that bastard’ and now… well. He was just a tool to the younger Kaiba. Something he manipulated and used to make his brother better. Jou had been used for worse. 

But Kaiba… Kaiba had been something different. Old moneybags with his power and his brains and his money – who summoned helicopters at the press of a button and had the guts to risk his life calling Yami no Yuugi’s bluff to fight for his brother. 

Back then he’d had everything Jou wanted, and the blond had pushed himself to his limits trying to earn even this cold-hearted bastard of a guy’s _begrudging_ respect. The words ‘deadbeat’, ‘loser dog’, ‘third-rate duellist’, ‘mutt’ and ‘idiot’ might have been cruel… but they hadn’t been _wrong_. 

Jou, these days, could hardly remember that crackling, quicksilver teen who he’d burned himself out hating. Whenever he thought ‘Kaiba Seto’, he pictured the vulnerable, tired, stubborn young man who seemed determined to work himself into an early grave. 

Jou’s watch alarm goes off and he flicks the button. Eight-thirty. He stands up, cracks his knuckles and goes into the CEO’s office. Two minutes later he emerges with Kaiba thrown over his shoulder, slamming fists into his back. 

“Put me down!” the brunet snarled. “I wasn’t finished working yet!” 

“You have now been at work for twelve hours,” Jou replied, grunting at a hit to a cluster of aching muscles. “If I let you work any later, you won’t make your bed time.” 

“I am twenty-one years old!” Kaiba protested. 

“Then you might try acting like it,” he snapped, irritated, “instead of carrying on like a five-year-old being taken from an arcade.” 

The elevators close and Jou dropped Kaiba back onto his feet, standing protectively in front of the buttons. 

Kaiba straightened his suit. “I hadn’t even _saved_ yet!” he complained. 

“Mokuba will remotely connect and shut everything down for you. Like he does every night.” 

“If you could act like a rational human being instead of dragging me off like some cave man—” 

“Maybe I would if you weighed more than a sack of potatoes!” Jou snarled, losing his temper. “How many days, since you’ve started back at the office, have you _actually_ eaten lunch or dinner?” 

Kaiba sighed and turned away, his expression completely unreadable. 

“You’re a selfish dick, Kaiba,” Jou couldn’t feel anything but a deep, overwhelming tiredness. “I mean, you always were – but at least back then you gave a shit about Mokuba as well.” 

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t you _dare_ ever presume to know a _single thing_ about the relationship between my brother and I.” 

“I might if you’d spent more than an hour in the same room as him in the last three months,” he replied. “But no, you’re so obsessed with working to death you can’t even finish work on time to get home and see him.” 

Kaiba’s face twisted up in irritation. “What I do is none of your business.” 

“Well,” he said quietly. “I’d gladly get out of your five-hundred-dollar haircut hair – but your brother cares about you enough to call up old debts to save your life. I don’t know about you, but I care about my honour.” 

The glare hardened. “What’s it going to take to get you to leave us alone, Mutt?” He demanded. “Everyone can be bought off for the right price.” 

Jou considered it. The things he could do with all the money he could ask for. He raised his chin and stared him dead in the eyes. “You being able to _function_ like a human being.” 

Kaiba’s nostrils flared in an unspoken rage. The elevator pinged softly as it opened. He gave Jou an icy look, and strode past him without another word. 

~*~ 

Wake up at 6am. 

Shower, fifteen minutes. 

Shave, ten minutes. 

Hair styling, five minutes. 

Go to the kitchen. 

First coffee, black. 

Breakfast – a variation for whatever Jounouchi had decided to cook that day. 

Second coffee, half-caff, light milk, two sugars. 

Read the newspaper, remark on current events that may interest the Mutt. 

7am, Mokuba arrives in the kitchen. Discussion of daily plans follow. 

7:45, return upstairs to complete morning hygiene. 

8am, drive Mokuba to school. Discuss current events. 

8:30am, arrive at Kaiba Corporations central offices. Morning paperwork until 9:30am. 

Variation on schedule according to arrangements made by secretary. 

12pm, lunch. Delivered by restaurant, ordered by Personal Assistant. Aproximate duration, forty-five minutes. Variation for business lunches. 

5pm, finish working. Return to mansion. 

5:30pm, arrive home. Quality time with Mokuba. Discuss school work and events of the day. 

6:30pm, Jounouchi arrives to prepare dinner. 

Dinnertime variation according to preparation times. 

8pm, continue working at home office. 

9pm, daily exercise routine in home gym, supervised by Jounouchi. 

9:30pm, prepare for bed, take sleeping aid. Asleep by 10pm. 

Routine. Performing necessary daily tasks. Consuming the minimum amount of caffeine for optimal performance. Prove self to be a functional human being. 

So why did Jou keep giving him these tired, defeated looks? Why did he and Mokuba keep exchanging these worried, uncomfortable looks? 

~*~ 

“We have to do something Jounouchi,” Mokuba said. “It’s almost worse now.” 

“At least he’s eating and sleeping?” He offered in reply. 

They were sitting in the park, hot chocolates held in gloved hands. Mokuba had finished school and had his driver drop him off at the park to meet up with Jou. 

“I want my brother back.” 

“Not a repitively programmed robot?” Jou questioned. Mokuba cringed, but it was obvious he agreed. “If I have to hear him paraphrase one more news article…” 

“He’s trying to hold conversation, I think,” Mokuba said. “It’s like he’s forgotten how.” 

He paused, sipping his drink. “They’re taking him off sleeping pills soon,” he replied. “Things might change.” 

Mokuba sighed. “I finish high school in a couple months – I start entrance exams in a couple weeks. I can’t go away for university with him still like this.” 

“Yes you can,” he replied. “Because when your brother snaps out of this, you know he’d kick himself for holding you back.” 

Mokuba sighed. “You’re right… But he needs me.” 

“Kaiba needs to let you go. Even if you come back after university, what happens when you’ve gotta stay overseas for business? He can’t be relying on you to keep him afloat forever.” 

“I don’t think that’s…” Mokuba frowned. “We’ve always been there for one another. He and I have only had each other to 

***** 

AAAAND I left it on another unfinished sentence again. Damn you past OG. This was so good. 

So, what happens next? Kaiba returns to human form through a long process, and Jou promises to stay with him forever – so he doesn’t have to be alone. So neither of them has to be alone any more. Or something. 

Why don’t you come up with something better? 


	7. Vampire Slayer AU Where Joey is Xander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jou, Anzu, Yugi, Kaiba  
> Warnings: Vampirism, so blood and gore.

Joey trailed along behind Téa and Yugi, dragging his feet. “I don’t like museums,” he grumbled. 

“We heard you, Joey,” Yugi said, grinning back at him. 

“The first four times,” Téa answered, rolling her eyes. He huffed at her back and looked around. “Come on, Joey. Don’t you want to see a real live mummy?” 

“No,” he replied. “It’s a _dead person_. And I really don’t want to see a _live_ mummy either.” 

“Reanimated immortal corpses,” Téa said, smirking slightly, “that’s a normal weekday night for me.” 

Yugi gave her a startled look. “Téa! You shouldn’t talk about that stuff around people! Grandpa says...” 

“Yugi,” Téa said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t do everything your Grandpa says. That’s not my style.” 

“Alright, kids!” the supervising teacher called. “We’re going in through the burial chamber~ Single file, follow me.” 

“You guys go,” Joey said, “I’ll join the party later. I really don’t feel like staring at a wrinkled up raisin.” 

“Alright, Joey. See you later!” Yugi linked his arm through Téa’s and the two of them wandered off with the rest of the class through the big wooden doors to the next room of the exhibit hall. 

Joey wandered through the glass displays, looking at the artefacts and stuff inside them. “Gross,” he mumbled. “Organ jars.” 

“Completely symbolic,” a deep, even voice said behind him. 

He screamed and turned around, spotting a tall pale brunet standing behind him. “Dude!” he said, grumpy. “It’s rude to sneak up on people.” 

“And it’s frowned upon to wander away from your group on school excursions,” the stranger answered. 

“I didn’t wander away!” he snapped. “They all wandered away from me. I just... purposely avoided following them. Not that it’s any of your business anyway!” 

“Hn,” the stranger said quietly. “You should wander along, boy. Join the herd before someone tries to pick you off.” 

Talk like that made him suspicious as well, but if it weren’t for the fact he was standing in a huge shaft of sunlight without exploding into flames Joey might be screaming for Téa. “No thanks,” he replied, glaring. “Don’t feel like helping a bunch of tomb robbers continue to desecrate the resting place of an ancient king for profit.” 

Neatly groomed eyebrows rose slightly. “Interesting viewpoint.” He smirked. “If a fabrication. What is it really?” 

Joey frowned. “...it’s creepy. Watched too many horror movies, I guess. Can’t stop picturing the thing sitting up and choking me.” 

“Too many horror movies indeed,” the brunet said. “But you are justified. Stay here if you wish.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked off, long white coat billowing slightly with his walk. 

Joey waited, checking his watch occasionally. Boy, the class had really been in there a long time. How long could people stare at a raisin person for? 

He headed over to ask the tour lady how long the talk inside the burial chamber lasted for. She was a whole lot of unhelpful that basically came down to there was a separate exit through the burial chamber and now he had to go _through_ it to catch up with the group. 

Muttering bitterly, he headed through the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside. The room was lit up in dim orange lights, cleverly hidden so it didn’t ruin the mood. It all looked pretty authentic to him, the walls were wallpapered with higher-gliffics or whatever they were called. The walls had a couple statues of that Anubis guy in black stone things. 

What wasn’t very authentic-looking, however, was the sarcophagus lid skewed over the floor too many feet away from the raised stage and the pale figure leaning over the gaping opening. He had the sleeve of his sweater shoved up over his elbow and his arm held inside. He turned his head slightly and Joey caught sight of glowing eyes and red-tipped fangs. 

“Hah!” he exclaimed. “You _are_ a vampire! Take that Mister Vampires-Can’t-Walk-In-Sunlight Moto!” 

The eye-teeth receded and the glowing blue eyes settled into a deceptively regular dull blue colour. He gave Joey a dull look. “You had to make this difficult, didn’t you?” The low voice growled. 

“Uh...” He backed off slightly. “You don’t wanna kill me! My blood tastes nasty and - TÉA!” 

He didn’t get any more than her name out before the vampire rushed forward and slammed him against the wall, a hand covering his mouth. “Shh.” He held Joey’s head still and looked intensely in his eyes. They began to glow softly. “You’re going to forget what you’ve seen in here. You’ll rejoin your class and tell them you got lost on your way to the bathroom.” He removed his hand. “Understood.” 

“Uhhhh,” Joey said. “I realise it’s probably a stupid thing to tell you but the reason my blood tastes gross is the vervain Téa’s watcher has us drink on a weekly basis.” 

“That was particularly stupid, yes,” the brunet said. “Now I have to get you out of the way.” One hand moved down and pressed a thumb into the pulse of his neck. 

*** 

Joey shook the manacles impatiently, satisfied by the loud clanking noise it made. “Come on!” he yelled. “My ass is numb!” 

The sound of heeled bootsteps on the metal stairs was slow and controlled. “You’re a very noisy human.” 

“And you’re a very asshole vampire. Chains and manacles, really? Like you couldn’t grab me the minute I took a step near the front door.” He clanked the chains again. “Lemme out.” 

“Relax, boy,” the vampire said, passing through a shaft of sunlight. 

“Quit calling me that,” Joey growled. “Just call me Joey like everybody else does.” 

The vampire knelt down and unlocked the manacles, moving them off of his wrists. “Kaiba.” 

“Huh?” 

“Kaiba. It’s the name I’m using these days.” 

“These days?” 

“This century, at least.” There was a slight smirk around his lips. 

“Isn’t that the name of the chess guy from like fifty years ago?” Joey asked. “Broke world records for the fastest national championship game or something.” 

“That was me, yes.” 

“Wait, you’re like fifty years old?” Joey asked. 

“Give or take,” Kaiba said vaguely. “Is that surprising?” 

“We don’t really get vamps much older than a few years on the Hellmouth. Téa takes ‘em out pretty quickly when she finds out about them.” 

“You’ve mentioned that name before,” Kaiba said. “She must be someone of importance then?” 

“You need to work on your modern speak,” he said. “Yes. She’s important. She’s the Slayer.” 

“A vampire slayer on a Hellmouth. How original.” He stood up, looking down at him. “Téa is the Slayer, which would likely make that Mr Moto you mentioned would be her watcher.” He peered at him for a long moment. “But what does that make you?” 

“...comic relief?” 

“Well, Jar-Jar Binx, I assume you’re hungry. I ordered a food delivery for you.” 

“First of all, how _dare_ you compare me to the worst character in the Star Wars universe? Second of all – you’ve seen Star Wars?” 

[LONG GAP CAUSE I DIDN’T WRITE CHRONOLOGICALLY] 

"That bag is ridiculous," the brunet sneers, using the straps to yank him up to his feet in a fluid movement. "It's a red flag for all demons and vampires in a five mile radius."  
  
Joey blinked at him in confusion, then glanced back at the backpack. "My bag is black...?"  
  
"Never mind," Kaiba sighed in irritation. "What's even in there anyway?"  
  
"Emergency stuff," he replied.  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"You know. First aid kit, mini tool kit, lunchbox, wind-up lantern, thermal blanket, prepaid phone, change of shirt, silver cross, wooden stakes, Ryou's demon index flash cards..."  
  
"Lunchbox?" He asked dubiously. "For emergency midnight snacking?"  
  
"Laugh if you want," Joey snapped, offended. "But if one of these mausoleums collapses during a big boss battle, and one of us is stuck inside for a few days--”  
  
"You're such a downer. Next time Atem can take you on patrol."  
  
"Good luck getting between Fangless and Yugi," Jou said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Don't call him that."  
  
The blond shrugged and stayed silent. After another few metres, he tripped over an exposed root in the dark.  
  
Kaiba caught him with a hand on the bag again. "Maybe it does have some uses."  
  
Before Joey could celebrate his victory, the earth shook with a quake and he grabbed onto Kaiba as the ground split open.  
  
~=~  
  
As soon as he woke he took stock of himself. Wriggled his fingers, counted ten. Ignored the burn of pain as he rotated his shoulders, bruised as fuck but not dislocated. Nothing damp in his head, no open wounds. Prodding with his fingers found a couple of cracked ribs. He pushed himself up onto his elbows to look down at his feet as he gave the toes a wriggle.  
  
...huh.  
  
He felt around a bit until he felt the familiar fabric of his backpack. He tugged it close and unzipped the main pocket. Take that Mr Skepto Kaiba. The lantern came out first, wrist burning as he turns the dial a few times.  
  
The light was an unnatural shade of blue-white. It lit up the cave in stark light, shadows long and creepy. Damn. Domino Mines. Shut down like a hundred years ago when they ran out of gold.  
  
Holding up the lantern, he saw the hole in the roof they must have fallen through. He can't see any light, but maybe when Kaiba got up he could climb up there and see if they could get out that was. Vampire rock climbing - he laughed at himself for that.  
  
Speaking of the guy - he lowered the lantern and looked around the ground. When he spotted the vampire it was a startled and not at all scared yell of "nyeh!"  
  
Kaiba was lying in a congealed pool of blood that looked a weird brown black colour in the light. He cringed and fought down his gag reflex. He wasn't dust. That meant he wasn't dead yet...  
  
Well he was dead but not really?  
  
Vampires were confusing.  
  
Clipping the lantern to the side of his backpack, he turned onto his front and started pulling himself toward the undead corpse with his forearms. "Oh that's so gross," he whined as the sleeves of his jacket rubbed into the blood pool. "If I get out of this alive, remind me to bug you for a new jacket, Kaiba."  
  
The vampire, who looked a funny grey colour, didn't respond. He scoffed and sat himself up. Looked like Kaiba had clocked himself pretty hard on the rock. He could see some scalp and hair stuck in the crevices.  
  
"Gross," he complained.  
  
The blow would've killed a human, but Joey had seen him live through much worse. Unlive. Something.  
  
Carefully, he picked up the brunet's head. He half-expected to see brains hanging out of a cracked skull. It didn't turn out to be that bad - the wound had stopped bleeding at least.  
  
"Vampire blood will heal basically everything," he mumbled, in an impression meant to mimic Atem. When Kaiba had been crushed in the trash compactor, Atem had given him as much blood as his stomach could hold and left him to heal on his own.  
  
Problem was, Kaiba had lost a bit of blood already. Joey needed him up and about ASAP so they could get out of there quickly.  
  
"Note to self," Joey said aloud. "Ask Atem to donate a bag of vamp blood to keep in my emergency backpack."  
  
So no vamp blood for Kaiba. Next best thing was... "Human blood, warm and willing straight from the source," he said in his best attempt at Kaiba's I-know-better-than-you-Wheeler voice. "Damn it."  
  
He opened the brunet's slack mouth and glared inside at the deceptively normal-looking teeth. The incisors were pointier than normal, but like this they were an average length. "Make me do all the work," he muttered. He rubbed his hand as clean as he could on his shirt and then prodded one finger into Kaiba's gums.  
  
The fangs dropped, sliding out an extra few centimetres from the gums. Part one done. He pushed his finger further into the vampire's mouth, gathering up some of his saliva. Grandpa had explained that vamp spit was a bunch of fancy words that basically meant numbing and clean.  
  
"This is literally the grossest thing I've ever done," he told Kaiba. "You're lucky I need your vampire super-strength."  
  
His finger was tingly and kinda numb so he pulled it out and hesitated. Forearm was probably smartest, right in the bend of his elbow where they stuck you at the blood bank. But his jacket was filthy and he would probably need his arms a lot before they got out. Cringing, he reached up and rubbed his finger against the pulse in his neck. "New jacket and a turtleneck," he told Kaiba firmly.  
  
The vampire stayed unmoving, his fangs waiting like some...waity thing in his mouth. Joey glared at him a final town and then lifted him up. Lying Kaiba's torso against his chest, he pressed the vampire's face against his neck. "Fangs. Fangs in bad places," he mumbled anxiously. "Oh god. Don't drain me, asshole."  
  
With a reluctant tug, he forced the vampire's fangs into his neck and hoped for the best. After barely a moment, beyond the pain, he felt a sucking sensation around the pricks. "Of course you're conscious enough for that, asshole," he mumbled.  
  
It felt...weird. He was too buzzed with adrenaline to feel too much, but he knew it didn't feel painful and invading like he thought it would. Nothing at all like that psycho warlock had tried to suck out his life force. As Kaiba sucked, he had a weird flashback of the vampire sneering at him and flashing his teeth as he said: vampires don't need unwilling victims, Wheeler.  
  
Just when Joey was starting to worry about portion control, Kaiba stopped sucking and his fangs retracted. Probably back into his mouth since Kaiba was back to doing his corpse impersonation.  
  
A little woozy, Joey laid him back down. "And a steak dinner," he said, "jacket, turtleneck and steak."  
  
He cracked open the first aid kit to clean and wrap his neck, wrapped himself in the thermal blanket and shivered his way into an adrenaline-crash sleep.  
  
~=~  
  
"You're a fucking idiot, Wheeler."  
  
The growly voice only half-penetrated the fog of sleep. He was cold and tired, couldn't claw his way to awakeness enough to fight back when cold hands turned him onto his back.  
  
"Anticoagulant, idiot. At least you had a braincell to rub together to wrap it."  
  
He groaned a little, and twitched when he feels a wet something pulled away from his neck. It stung like a bitch, and even worse when he felt a forceful thumb rubbing something sticky into the burning painful bit.  
  
He drifted off into the pleasant white place again as soon as it stopped.  
  
  
His neck was itchy, and it's what woke him up. He opened his eyes into the darkness and used his arms to sit up. There was a pair of glowing blue lights that came into focus, a few metres away. "Kaiba, your eyes glow in the dark."  
  
"Your lantern ran out of batteries," was the answer he got. "I couldn't find any batteries in your bag. Bit of an oversight don't you think?"  
  
"It's a wind up," he answered, confused. He held out his hand, "give it to me and I'll turn it on." There was a small wait and then he felt the plastic handle pressing into his palm. He set it on his lap and started turning up the dial, hearing the internal mechanisms clacking. He wound it up as high as it would go and then pressed the button.  
  
He winced at the sudden bright light and took a while to focus in on the vampire sitting a bit away.  
  
"How's your head?" He asked.  
  
Kaiba frowned. "It's fine. And it would've been fine on its own. What the deuce do you think you're playing at?" He demanded.  
  
"I needed you up and running right away," Joey answered. "You always say human blood is the next best thing."  
  
"If you think that tearing your neck open on the teeth of an unconscious vampire was a clever thing to do then you are even more of an idiot than I previously thought."  
  
"It was fine," he insisted, rolling his eyes. "You stopped before you took too much."  
  
"And then you nearly bled out because you forgot that vampire saliva is a severe anticoagulant," Kaiba growled.  
  
"A what now."  
  
Kaiba rolled his eyes. "Stops the blood from clotting, the wound just keeps bleeding."  
  
"I didn't forget that! I wouldn't forget something like that," Joey insisted. "I just never knew it in the first place."  
  
"After the numerous lectures Mutou and Atem have given you on vampire traits and safety, and the books you've been given to read..."  
  
"Okay, okay, I get it," he mumbled. "So you kill everyone you bite? Even when you swore to us you weren't hurting anyone?" He demanded angrily.  
  
"No," Kaiba answered furiously. "I've told you numerous times that a vampire with enough control doesn't need unwilling victims, nor do we need to hurt them."  
  
"Apart from making them bleed to death!" Joey yelled.  
  
"No," he said coldly. "There are additional properties in vampire haemoglobin that counteract the anticoagulants and cause rapid..." At Joey's confused look, he paused and rolled his eyes. "If we put blood in the bites aftwerward, it heals up right away. Layman's terms."  
  
Joey paused, rubbing at his itchy neck. "So you...?"  
  
"Yes. Let's never mention it again."  
  
~=~  
  
He tugged the thermal blanket up, tight around his cold arms. He made an annoyed name when Kaiba reached over and yanked the blanket down over his legs again.  
  
"Your lower extremities require more insulation." He reached over and pinched the skin of Joey's ankle. "There's no reflexive response. You must be numb already."  
  
Joey avoided his eyes, fiddling with the winder on the lantern. "I don't think it's the cold."  
  
Glowing blue eyes narrowed at him dangerously. "Explain yourself, immediately."  
  
He sighed unhappily and looked at his feet again. "I think I might've... bruised my spine or something during the fall. I haven't been able to move them since I woke up. Or feel them."  
  
"Fangs of Apep, Wheeler!" Kaiba cursed. Or... at least he assumed it was a curse. The tone of voice was the same even if the words were a little funny. "Turn over," he commanded.  
  
"Uhh, why?" He asked, scooting a little way away.  
  
"Stay still, you blithering idiot," Kaiba snarled. "Dragging your weight like that might be making things worse." He crawled over, his movements slinky like a cat. "Turn over. I need to examine your spine for breaks."  
  
Joey huffed and closed his eyes, rolling over onto his side. He flinched at the cold hands on his arms. "Gees! Get some circulation in your hands, would you?"  
  
"Very funny. Vampires only have a working cardiovascular system during and after feeding. You know this. So you were making a joke about that lack."  
  
"Told you this before, Kaiba," Joey said, closing his eyes as the back of his shirt was pulled up. "If you gotta explain the joke, it ain't funny any more."  
  
"Quite." There was a pause. "Can you feel that?"  
  
"No."  
  
"And now?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
This repeated a few times, until Joey gritted his teeth and cried out through them. His hands scraped and scrabbled on the rocks. "No need to ask. Middle lumbar. This is going to hurt more--I need to check if it's bruised or dislocated."  
  
Joey balled the blanket up and clenched it between the teeth. As promised, it hurt more. After, he closed his eyes and spat the blanket out. "Well?"  
  
"Somehow, and I'm going to blame your miraculous luck for this, it's only bruised. The usual prescribed course of action is back support and bed-rest, rehabilitation."  
  
"Which is great," Joey mumbled. "Except I'll starve to death stuck at the bottom of this mine before it gets any better."  
  
"Once again, you're being melodramatic," Kaiba said. "Here, let me turn you back over." Freezing cold hands were surprisingly gentle as he turned the blond back over onto his back. "A couple mouthfuls should be enough."  
  
"Mouthfuls of what?" Joey asked, looking up at him in confusion.  
  
Kaiba gave him the usual Joey-Wheeler-you're-an-idiot look. "Vampire blood," he stated bluntly.  
  
"What the fuck?" He demanded, shoving at his shoulders roughly. Kaiba didn't even bother to pretend there was enough force behind it to make him move. "You can't turn me into a vampire, you bastard!"  
  
The vampire rolled his eyes. "I'm not turning you," he sneered. "I'm sure you'd be infinitely more annoying as a vampire." This time when Joey shoved him, Kaiba moved away. "We've told you countless times about the healing properties of vampire blood."  
  
"...for other vampires."  
  
"Not quite," Kaiba answered carefully. "If you'll recall the bite marks on your neck..."  
  
"Creepy," Joey said, reaching up to cover the bites on his neck. "So it's... not because it was mixed with your spit?"  
  
Kaiba frowned slightly at that. "No," he replied. "The exact proportions are varying, but there needs to be more vampire blood in your body than human to begin the transformation. Taking into account the hinu of blood I drank from you, and the ten ro you lost before I could heal the wound..."  
  
"Kaiba? You're doing the thing where you measure in Egyptian again."  
  
"Hm? Oh." His brows pulled down into a frown as he did the math in his head. "Pint. One and a third pints, in total, for blood loss. Two mouthfuls of mine isn't nearly enough to turn you." He pushed a bit of his fringe out of his eyes. "But it will repair your injuries, and boost your blood production."  
  
Joey raised his eyebrows. "That's awfully convenient for you suckers."  
  
"It's not really convenient if that's the imperative behind it," Kaiba replied. Joey just gave him a blank look. "Purpose. It's meant to do that, so that's what it does."  
  
"So you can keep your bite junkies pumped full for you?" He asked, rolling his eyes. "That's really sick, Kaiba."  
  
"You humans and your keeping animals in pens to lead them directly to the abattoir is so much less despicable than a mutually beneficial relationship with a willing lover!" Kaiba scoffed. "Yes, by all means. Let's do this song and dance again. You know your lines: 'all vampires are nasty, evil demons that deserve to be staked'. Then I will roll my eyes and tell you that you are young and you still have much to learn about the ways of the world."  
  
"Alright you patronizing bastard!" Joey snapped, clenching his fists tightly.  
  
"Right on cue," Kaiba said, smirking.  
  
"Just gnaw on your arm or something so I don't have to hear you talk any more."  
  
Kaiba unlatched the metal wristband on one of his arms and set it aside, sliding the fabric of his black turtleneck up over his elbow. "You may have to agitate the wound with your teeth. We heal up pretty quick."  
  
"Ugh, gross," Joey complained. He turned his face away as he heard the familiar sound of teeth digging in to flesh. "Ugh," he whined again.  
  
"Quickly," Kaiba growled, and then there was an arm shoved in his mouth.  
  
He gagged a bit, cringing as he began to suck. The flavour wasn't that bad. He could kind of pretend he was just chowing down on a badly undercooked steak. That was, until, he heard a half-strangled moan across from him.  
  
He threw his eyes open and stared at Kaiba. If the vampire could blush, he would be. He looked totally embarrassed, eyes turned away.  
  
"Oh, no way!" Joey said, muffled against the arm shoved against his mouth. He shoved it away. "I'm not going to play your kinky vampire blood games! Creep!"  
  
"It's involuntary I assure you," Kaiba replied, shoving his hand back into Joey's face. "If you weren't dead below the waist you would've found out as much yesterday."  
  
"What?" He demanded, outraged. Though the end of it was muffled by the cold skin of Kaiba's arm.  
  
"Bloodsharing is an intensely erotic experience," the vampire replied, rubbing his wound against Joey's teeth and making it bleed again. "But this is necessity. Let us both keep that in the forefronts of our mind, shall we?"  
  
Joey shoved his arm away again. "Is this like me sucking your dick?" He demanded angrily.  
  
"No," Kaiba answered, shoving his arm back into place. Once the blood had stopped again, he pulled it away and watched the wound close up. "It's much more ecstatic then that. If you're lucky, you'll never find out."  
  
Joey swilled some saliva around his mouth and spat it out on the ground. Kaiba gave the little patch of blood a distasteful look. "How long is this gonna take?"  
  
Kaiba shrugged. "Hard to tell. Recovering from spinal bruising can take weeks or months. With the blood it might take days, or weeks. These things are hardly exact."  
  
"That's too long," Joey mumbled. "You're going to have to find a way out and get help."  
  
Kaiba nodded. "I'll start when the sun goes down."  
  
  
Kaiba looked gaunt, and grey. It had taken Joey an embarrassingly long time to figure out. At first hadn't noticed, but then he'd thought it was a trick of the light. After a while, he was not sure how many days, he couldn't deny it even to himself. The vampire was grey, his shirt - usually form-fitting - bagged around him awkwardly. He seemed more irritable than normal, which Joey didn't know was possible.  
  
"Hey, Kaiba," Joey said uncertainly. "Uh. How many days have we been down here?"  
  
"Eleven days and twelve nights," Kaiba answered. He paused and frowned at him. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Cause Atem said vampires need a pint of blood every three days," he replied. "Which means it's been at least ten days since you've fed."  
  
Kaiba scowled at that. "That's not entirely accurate. A healthy vampire has a pint of fresh human blood every three to four days. We can last significantly longer on much less."  
  
"Without turning into a walking skeleton?" Joey asked dubiously.  
  
"Vampire blood might have boosted your system for several days," he replied coldly, "but by now it'll have dropped back to normal. Should we talk about your imminent death by starvation instead?"  
  
"My emergency lunchbox isn't sounding so stupid now, is it?" He asked, rolling his eyes.  
  
He held out a hand for his bag. Kaiba was slow, but he held the metal of the lunchbox out to him with a raised eyebrow. "Flame Swordsman. I'm so surprised."  
  
Joey didn't answer him, unlatching the lunchbox and shifting through the contents. Underneath a dozen non-perishables, he tugged out the plastic sealed bag inside. "Eat up, sucker," he said, and tossed the blood pack at Kaiba.  
  
"Wheeler," the vampire growled. "How long have you had this?"  
  
"It was fresh the day I bought it, before we headed to the shop. It's about as cold as a fridge down here, it should be fine still..."  
  
"You had this and you didn't think use it instead of nearly bleeding yourself out?" He demanded angrily.  
  
"It's just pig," Joey mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Butcher just thinks I really like black pudding."  
  
"This is Domino, I really doubt it," Kaiba said. "They know what for, and they probably know who. We're not exactly inconspicuous in the demon community, you realise?"  
  
"Aaanyway," Joey said, "Yugi says pigs blood is like... some non-nutritious thing for you guys."  
  
"It's a bit like those sugary oatmeal bars you've got stuffed in there. Filling, some necessities, but not exactly nutritious," Kaiba answered. "I would have healed."  
  
"It just would've taken longer," Joey said. "Got it. Don't regret it. Suck down your bacon smoothie and get some meat on your bones."  
  
"Pig's blood taste nothing like bacon," Kaiba answered. He turned away slightly, but Joey could still see his fangs dropping out of his gums. He plunged them in to the plastic blood bag in an aggressive lunge, draining the whole thing in a few hard sucks. "Just a gill, but it'll tide me over."  
  
"A what now."  
  
"...quarter pint," he answered. "Do they not teach you children these things in school any more?" 


	8. Always The Baker, Never The Bride (Jou's Grandpa is the Cake Boss and Kaiba Is a Cake Sculpter)

The bakery already smelled of cake. Half-asleep, clutching a hot mug of coffee, he shuffled through the door of Andrea’s Bakery. Despite the fact it was not far from Domino’s Little Italy (or possibly because of that) it was a hot spot for Italian patisserie. People came from every borough of the city, and even over from Jersey, just to try their goods. 

It was loud, and stereotypically Italo-American. Loud women with large hair and even larger personalities and louder husbands. He’d eaten more pasta in the two months he’d worked there than he had in his entire life. 

He’d finished art school, majoring in sculpting, and spent a year making his own artwork with the patronage of his older half-brother Noah. It had been everyone’s dream, coming out of art school. 

He’d hated it. 

His favourite moment was when the gallery he’d been showing in had their ten-year anniversary and Andrea’s Bakery had provided a specialty cake. He’d spent the whole night looking at his slice, and the delicate figurine of a Venus of Willendorf made of modelling chocolate. 

The next day he’d been sitting in the bakery’s crowded shop, holding his portfolio and refusing to leave until they gave him a job interview. Andrea was an aging New Yorkian, clearly Italian—but also mixed race Japanese. He explained, apologetically, that they weren’t hiring. Their budget wouldn’t allow for another decorator. 

Kaiba explained in calm, unrelenting words that he would work without pay. He defended his need—the desire to create art that could be touched and eaten and experienced and enjoyed. Not something that would stand in a gallery and be looked at and forgotten. 

Andrea had brought him in as an intern. He’d been there two months, and he already felt more fulfilled than he had in the entire year of being a notable sculptor. 

Most of Andrea’s employees were family. All the women in the shop were sisters or wives or daughters. Out the back, the bakers were husbands, brothers, cousins or nephews. The decorators were different. Only one of them, Serenity, was Andrea’s niece and she had taken him under her wing in the bakery. The rest were a bit like him—strangers whose passion had led them here to work on the projects. 

Day in and day out was not as exciting as he’d really imagined. Mostly they made more sugar-flowers than he would’ve thought it possible to use, did a routine icing patterns on cupcakes and birthday cakes. Every so often they got the big tasks, the unique figurines for the specialty cakes. He texted the pieces he was proud of to Mokuba. 

  



	9. Cinderella AU

Jou belonged to an old, rich but untitled family that, a century ago, fallen on hard times. All the old properties and houses had been sold off one-by-one until all that was left was a hunting lodge on the outskirts of a market town. Once the last of the money had dried up, his father had signed up for his majesty's Royal Army and promptly vanished from their lives.   
His mother, soured and poisoned by the abandonment, soon turned the house into a place of discontent for her son. She dismissed, in the name of economy, the servants from the household--and replaced them with her able-bodied son when he was only twelve years old.   
Jou grew up to be handsome, and strong like a thoroughbred horse. He didn't learn much about the world outside the kitchen and the vegetable garden, the road to the market and the marketplace. To Jou it seemed his mother had forgotten that he was her son, and she treated him like the lowest servant.   
One day, when he was eighteen years old, there was an unusual announcement in the town square when he went to trade the goose eggs. He hurried home to tell his mother the news.   
She, lying on a fainting couch in a darkened drawing room with slivers of cucumber over her eyes, was unimpressed by his interruption. When he shared the news, however, she sat immediately up, the green circles falling from her eyes. "A ball? At the royal palace?"   
"Yes, Mother," he replied. "For the Prince's engagement to Princess Kisara of....somewhere or other."   
She kicked at him and called him a fool, but she was eager as she went to the mirror to check her reflection. "And you are certain he said that every person is welcome to come to the ball?"   
"Yes, Mother," he repeated. "I remember correctly because the baker's wife was talking about how generous and unusual it was for--"   
"Oh, shut up, you fool boy!" she snapped impatiently. "It is to be a masquerade?"   
"Yes, Mother," he replied. Then, wisely, didn't contribute anything else.   
"Delightful. Run up to the attics and take my ball-gowns out of the mothballs. I should have one or two that might suit Shizuka, if we can have them fitted in time."   
He paused. "Mother...?"   
"What is it? I am very busy!"   
"May I... take out one of Father's old suits?" He asked carefully.   
"What on earth for?" She demanded, astounded. "Certainly you are not thinking of going?"   
"Well...the announcement did say it was for everyone..."   
"That does not include grubby little scullions who have no idea about proper manners!" she barked. "Now, I told you to go fetch my old dresses! Enough of this nonsense! You! at a ball!" She laughed as she wandered off through the house.   
Jou was quiet and obedient over the next few days. He woke before dawn to stoke the fires and light the candles, began preparing breakfast in time for his mother to enjoy a tray in bed--helped his sister carefully eat her toast and fruits. Then he tended to the animals and the gardens, swept and scrubbed the floors, helped his sister with her lunch. After lunch, he was sent to the market town to summon a seamstress to come and tend to his mother's decades-old dresses.   
Shizuka, he thought, looked lovely in her white, floaty, lacy dresses. She smiled in his direction and asked him to describe exactly what it looked like. He did his best, but eventually he was made to escort the seamstress back to the town, carrying the two voluminous dresses to her little shop.   
After supper he was kneeling by the fire, reading aloud to Shizuka from a storybook. "When midnight came, Ashputtel wanted to go home. But the prince said to himself, 'I will not lose her this time'. He had crafted a plan--for while they were dancing away the evening, he had his servants pour pitch over the stairs. When Ashputtel fled, as she had the previous nights, one of her golden shoes became stuck in the tar. She was in such a hurry that she fled, and left it behind..."   
"That's enough for tonight," his mother snapped, staring into the red wine that looked as dark as pitch in the firelight. "You can read the rest tomorrow."   
He closed the book. It was his usual signal to go upstairs and turn down the beds, but tonight he lingered. "Mother?" When she gave him the irritated look that was his permission to continue, he said: "I was wondering, if it might be alright for me to go to the palace with you..."   
Her nostrils flared in anger. "Whyever would you think I would permit such a thing?" She demanded. "You would be an embarrassment."   
"Yes, Mother... only... I thought it would be easier to you if I attended the two of you in the carriage? I could describe the sights to Shizuka as we travel, and rouse the coachmen when you were ready to leave..."   
She glared at him. "Absolutely not!" she dismissed.   
But, as Jou had planned, it was a few days later that the idea had settled in her mind in such a way that she had made it her own. "I have been thinking," she told Jou as he folded away the rest of her old dresses. "We will stay at an inn close to the palace. You will journey with us there, and attend to us so we do not have to tip the maids. There is absolutely no question of you attending the ball, however."   
"Yes, Mother." He hid his smile as he refolded his father's old dinner coat.   
"And throw that old thing out! It has a nasty tear in the back."   
"May I perhaps keep it, Mother?" He asked carefully. "I think I can repair the tear, and I might wear it when I attend the carriage to the ball--so I don't disgrace you, of course."   
She gave an irritated huff. "Oh, do whatever you like with your old rags!"   
It was the closest he would get to actual permission, so he took it with him to the kitchen. The gold buckles were all tarnished, but he polished them up until they shined again. The embroidery and embellishments were still beautiful, but the tear at the back was truly unsightly. He did what he could to bring the pieces together, but in the end he had to patch up a number of holes with his cleanest rags. "Well," he said to himself. He would only wear it with the old opera cloak he'd pilfered in much the same manner. It would cover the back and he'd look presentable enough to stand outside the carriage and hand his sister out.   
He carefully backed it away in some old, clean sacking, which went at the bottom of the trunk he packed the dresses away in.   
When the night of the ball came, his mother didn't allow him to come with them in the carriage at all--they had footmen enough to open the doors for them at the palace. So he helped his sister dress, fitting the mask carefully over her unseeing eyes. He whispered to her in careful detail exactly how beautiful she looked, and settled her into the carriage.   
He had a bath, scrubbing his sooty hair clean and properly washing his hands and face. When clean and dried, he returned to their rooms to discover that in her haste, their mother had forgotten to pack the warm woollen wrap that would protect Shizuka from chills.   
Determined, he dressed in his good clothes, wrapped himself in the opera cloak and hurried onto the streets to join the crowds flowing like a river toward the castle. It was magnificently lit up, the blue marble looking spectacular perched on top of the hill.   
There were mask-merchants and food stalls lining the streets, all calling out to the people that passed. At one point, near the palace, he felt a weak hand gripping his arm.   
When he turned to look, it was a silver-haired man in a red suit with a peculiar gold monocle. He pressed a black leather mask, decorated with red paint, into Jou's hands and shushed him. "You'll need this tonight, dear boy."   
Before Jou could protest, he slipped into the crowd and disappeared. Jou tied it on, because it was easier than carrying it, and continued on his way up to the palace.   
He went through a less-crowded entrance, one he suspected was for servants, and hurried toward the sounds of music. He was stood on a balcony, overlooking the ballroom. But he peered around and couldn't find the white dress of his sister, nor the... eye-catching yellow of his mother.   
Down the balcony from him, there was a tall man in a beautiful blue coat observing the evening. He hurried over, clutching the wrap. "Excuse me, sir?"   
The man turned to look at him, and Jou had a moment to think that the other seemed very confused about being addressed suddenly. His face was obscured by a short, silver mask that was wrought in a way to resemble the features of a dragon. Piercing blue eyes peered out at him. "...yes?" He prompted.   
He gave an awkward shallow bow. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I was wondering if you could spot someone for me? There's a woman with a bright yellow dress, and next to her should be a young girl in a white gown. She left behind her wrap..."   
Without a word, his head turned back to sweep his eyes across the ballroom. In an elegant gesture, his gloved fingers pointed at an alcove near the balcony doors. "Do you mean those two, perhaps?"   
"Yes, that's them, thank you..." He bowed awkwardly again, then hurried down the marble steps to the crowds. It was an arduous task to make his way through the crowd, but eventually he managed to get close to his sister while his mother was distracted flirting with a rich-looking man. "It's me," he whispered to her. "I've brought your wrap. I didn't want you to get cold."   
Shizuka sighed with relief, smiling in his direction when he wrapped the wool over her shoulders. "You'd better go before Mother returns," she whispered carefully. "She's in a very bad mood tonight!"   
Jou kissed her forehead gently, then fled through an outside balcony when his mother was looking the other way. He sighed in relief, pausing a moment to lean against a column and catch his breath.   
"How peculiar." He turned, startled, to see the same man from the balcony inside, standing a little way away from him. The blue eyes were boring into him. "You interrupt me at this ball, then seem so eager to flee. Crowds are not to your taste, then?" 


	10. Katsuya's Wedding

very loosely inspired by the Australian classic movie "Muriel's Wedding"   
  
The video shop was slow, and easy, and paid generously. It wasn't the dream job - moving to the city and making it big in a fair job market. But it wasn't a bad job for a partially illiterate twenty-two year old who never graduated high school. He shared a tiny run-down apartment above a gyoza bar in Little Tokyo with two other ex-pats. Anzu was a dance student, whose parents paid her way to her dream of being a professional dancer. Honda was like him, come to Domino City in America for fair work and opportunity--right now he worked for a vending machine company, called out to make repairs all over the city. At least they paid for his bike fuel.   
  
Jou hadn't really had much ambition growing up--his father had always been pretty generous with the opinion that he was good-for-nothing and would-never-amount-to-anything. He'd run out on his dad six months ago--he didn't feel good about the fact he'd drained the old man's bank account first, but he could get a job and support himself. Like he was doing here, in Domino City.   
  
It wasn't going well, though. Honda had to go back to Japan to help his sister out with her kids, and Anzu was about to take a semester in New York on exchange. There was no way he could make the rent on his own, so he had the newspaper open on the public notices. Most of it was a jumble of English letters--he could make out a word or two here and there but it was mostly nothing.   
  
He blinked in surprise, however, to see a message in a small corner of the paper written in Asian characters. He hoped it was Japanese kanji and not Chinese. Growing up, his dad hadn't bothered much to help him with his reading. He'd sketched out a few characters on a dirty napkin and handed Jou a newspaper and a crayon. He'd learned to circle every advertisement that had those kanji included in the text.   
  
He couldn't pick out everything in the ad, but he worked out enough that it was a private position with a lucarative pay award--must be an American citizen, fluent in Japanese. He ripped the ad out and slid it into his pocket. He wasn't low enough to call a future employer from his work phone.   
  
He made an appointment for the next day, at one of the fancier hotels uptown. He dressed in his best, and even still got rude looks from the staff as he asked for the room. They slid him a temporary card across the surface of the counter, like they didn't want to touch his hands.   
  
It was not the top floor, but it was several dozen up. A man in a suit was standing outside a nondescript door, glaring at him through the reflective glass of his sunglasses. Jou wandered up to him and waved the keycard, addressing him in Japanese. "Yo. I've got an appointment."   
  
"Name?"   
  
"Jou."   
  
The guard gave him a flat look.   
  
"Jounouchi Katsuya, sir."   
  
"I.D."   
  
Jou sighed and tugged his passport out of the back pocket of his jeans. The man looked it over, his jaw set in the usual immovable object impression. He handed it back and then mumbled into a mike hidden inside his collar. There was a pause, then he stepped aside from the door. Jou still had to use the keycard to get in, which was kind of annoying. But he didn't complain.   
  
There was another bodyguard inside, looming over a couch. Sitting down was...a kid. Couldn't be more than seventeen years old, dressed in an impeccable suit. He had sleek black hair, cut around his chin, and curious dark grey eyes. "Are you Jounouchi-san?" He asked.   
  
He forced a polite smile. "Yeah. You can call me Jou, though."   
  
The kid smiled a little. "Okay, Jou. I'm Mokuba." He grinned. "So, Jou! What made you answer the ad in the paper?"   
  
Jou rubbed the hair at the back of his head. "Well, uh. Mostly it was just nice to see kanji. I've been in America for six months and I was feeling kinda homesick I guess."   
  
Mokuba frowned a little. "You're not...American?" He asked uncertainly.   
  
"Kinda. I've got dual citizenship. I was born here, but we moved to Domino, Japan when I was three." He tried to flatten his hair back down. "Your ad said American citizen, right?"   
  
Mokuba had relaxed a little. "Yeah, it did." He turned to have a silent conversation with the bodyguard. It lasted a few minutes, and then the guard turned away with an irritated question. "We have a few questions beforehand."   
  
Before what, Jou wondered, but didn't ask. "Shoot."   
  
The guard glared. "What sort of person agrees to marry someone for money so that they may use you for citizenship?" He demanded.   
  
Jou blinked a little. "Wait, what?" He asked, bewildered. "Who said anything about that?" He thought about it for a few moments and then hummed. "Is that what the ad was for?" He asked Mokuba.   
  
The kid looked ashamed. "We kept it vague..."   
  
Jou squinted at him, confused. "Are you even old enough to get married?"   
  
Mokuba laughed. "Not me!" he said. "My older brother." The kid used the formal nii-sama for his brother, he'd have to keep that in mind.   
  
Jou rubbed his hair again. "Your big brother," he said. "He one of them straight-lace business types?"   
  
The kid's expression twisted a little. "I guess so...?" He said uncertainly.   
  
Jou turned back to the security guard. "Then to answer your question--is that any different than the businessmen that arrange marriages between their daughters and their business opponents to create company mergers?"   
  
"Isono, leave him alone," Mokuba said, rolling his eyes.   
  
The bodyguard continued to glare at him. "If you did this, you would have to lie--to the press, and the department in immigration. Would you be comfortable purguring yourself?"   
  
Jou shifted a little. "Uh. I don't really care about lying to the press," he said. "And if we do a good enough job doing that, it won't matter to the immigration, right?"   
  
Isono's expression was blank. "If you're not willing to present a facade under scrutiny then you are not an ideal candidate for this position."   
  
Jou blinked rapidly. "Is this a job interview or a marriage interview?" He asked, looking between them. "Look, came here for a well-paying job. I got a place in Little Tokyo, but my friends are moving out."   
  
"Think of this as a job interview then," Mokuba said, smiling. "We have a questionnaire for you to fill out."   
  
Jou grinned back at him. "Why don't we talk through it, like a conversation?"   
  
Chatting with Mokuba was fun. There were a few questions that Jou had been uncomfortable telling them, but the kid acted as if they were just part of everyday conversation. He left the room an hour later, escorted by the security guard, who said they would be in contact in a few days with more information.   
  
~*~*~*~   
  
"Video Shop, Upper Main Street. Jou speaking." It has been so much easier in Japan to use 'moshi moshi', but his boss was very specific about how he was supposed to answer the phone.   
  
"Jounouchi Katsuya?" A grim voice asked.   
  
Jou immediately tensed. "Who's speaking?" He demanded, probably a little too aggressive.   
  
"Isono. We met on Monday at-"   
  
"The hotel," Jou interrupted. "I remember. How can I help you, buddy?"   
  
"Mister Mokuba has put you on the list for potential candidates. Against my advice, might I add." The voice of the security guard was cold and unbending. "He wants you to meet Mister Kaiba. When is a convenient time for you to come for an additional interview at the hotel?"   
  
He rubbed the back of his head, taking out a VHS once it had finished rewinding and shoving it back on the shelf. "Uh. How soon we talking about here?" He asked. "Cause my shift finishes at six, but I got a day off on Friday if that's any better." 


	11. Soulmates AU Where Jou is a Sex Worker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for prostitution.

_The thing is, a person could have six or seven 'soulmate's in their life time. It isn't like the old days where you married the first person who made your skin tingle and were stuck with them for the rest of your life even if the two of you lost attraction to one another. Decades of research and experimentation gave the world a better understanding of what a 'soulmate' actually was._

_Super-charged attraction. A sensation in your body that says this person would be more than a good fuck for you. A feeling to show this person, whoever they are, is physically, emotionally and mentally compatible with you. Animal instinct telling you that this person could make you happy and satisfy all your needs._

_Soulmate compatibility doesn't take into account other things. It doesn't take into account social class, personal history, or even the way you might think or feel about another person. Like all those movies where two enemies accidentally touch hands, and suddenly realize they're good for one another. Except it's not like those movies, is it? They don't then fall in love and find out they secretly wanted wanted each other all along. Everything you thought and felt before stays the same. It's up to you whether you want to change or not._

_But hey. It makes the sex great._

_Doesn't it Kaiba?_

… 

Jou grins at the doorman as he steps past him, tugging off his beanie and gloves before he crosses the threshold. He shoves them into the pockets of his jacket and stamps his feet to knock off any snow. "Okaasama!" he called toward the desk. "Have I got anyone waiting for me or do I have time to defrost first?"   
  
He doesn't get an answer which is answer enough. He uses his toes to tug the back of his shoes down and kick them off. They go in his cubby hole - etched with the hirigana of his working name. He grabs down the soft-soled indoor slippers he can wear indoors and slips them on before straightening up.   
  
He's just undoing his coat when he looks up and sees the last person he ever expected to see sitting in the curtained living room of his place of work. It's not the last person he'd ever want to see, because Yuugi showing up here would be the most embarrassing thing that could happen. But frankly, he thought Yuugi finding him out and following him here was more likely than Kaiba Seto.   
  
The president and CEO of Kaiba Corporation is sitting on the large, soft Western-style armchair. There's a portfolio in his hands, like he's been flipping through the pages, but it's lowered and he's staring at Jou in the doorway. Jou just... silently continues stripping off his coat.   
  
He turns to hang it up in the closet and when he turns back, Kaiba is standing up and storming toward him. Jou steps out of the entryway, not wanting to have this conversation in an enclosed space. Kaiba looks him up and down, then pauses as he spots the soft, worn slippers he's wearing.   
  
Jou isn't entirely sure what's going through his head, but he darts a quick glance at his own feet, old clad in the socks he was probably wearing underneath the fancy loafers he was wearing with that business suit. They're blue, he's not even surprised. Another darted look at the entrance-way, then back to Jou.   
  
His face turned up in a sneer. "You're a Kagema?" He demanded.   
  
Jou just raised his eyebrows. Kagema was an old term for young male prostitutes. It was a lot kinder than he usually got from offended clients. "Are you trying to take the moral high ground here?" He asked dubiously. "And I suppose you just wandered in to task for directions?"   
  
Kaiba looked away. If he'd been anyone else, he probably would've been blushing in shame. Silently, he turned and went back to the armchair, picking up the portfolio. Jou was toward the back, which explained why Kaiba had been shocked to see him.   
  
He headed upstairs to his normal room. The usual sounds were drifting through the not-quite-soundproof doors, but he tuned them out. It was quiet in his room anyway. He quickly grabbed one of the yakuta from the wardrobe. It was too lightweight for the season, but it was easier to remove than a winter kimono. He never got to change into it, however.   
  
Okaasama was stepping inside without knocking and bowing to him politely. "Oldest son," she said, bowing slightly, "may I introduce you to an acquaintance of mine?"   
  
It's always the way she introduces him to a new client. He knows who it is before Kaiba steps into the room, eyes observing the room without making it too obvious. Okaasama makes all the polite introductions, then leaves them to 'conduct business'.   
  
Jou just hangs up the yakuta and then drops down to sit on the bed. "What are you doing here?" He demanded of Kaiba.   
  
He cleared his throat, seeming a little awkward. "What your...men usually do when they are brought up to your room."   
  
Jou snorted. "Sex," he replied bluntly. "That something new for you? Because I don't really do first-timers."   
  
Kaiba scoffed, reaching up to undo his tie. "Please. I bet I've been having sex for longer than you have. I'm perfectly able to find lovers if I desire."   
  
"So you're here, because...?" Jou retaliated, folding his arms and not moving to undress at all.   
  
"A business outing with some Americans," he answered. "I thought I might as well participate while I was here. It's not as if anyone can get the wrong idea about my intentions this way." At Jou's questioning look, he continued: "I'm rather sick of men thinking that I plan on pursuing some sort of continuing or romantic relationship."   
  
Jou scoffed. "Right. Got it. Whores don't get clingy."   
  
Kaiba cringed, but he said "precisely." He gestured Jou over with a finger. "Still, I'd rather keep this as concealed as possible. It might make the wrong impression if the CEO of Kaiba Corp is seen with a Kagema. So you'll have to do tonight." Once Jou was stood before him, his expression blank, he gestured to what remained of his suit. "Undress me."   
  
Jou's lip quirked in a quick brief half-smile, then started unbuttoning the smart business shirt. "I think this shirt costs nearly as much as I do," he said idly.   
  
Kaiba snorted. "I doubt that," he answered.   
  
The blond rolled his eyes and began to push the shirt off his shoulders. It was silk, but not the shiny kind. He didn't get very far however. As soon as his fingers brushed the bare skin of Kaiba's chest he had to stop. A warm flash of pleasure had shot through his hands and down his arms; settling in the centre of his chest and low in his gut.   
  
Kaiba made an offended noise. Jou darted a look up to judge his expression. It was annoyed and frustrated. Considering their last conversation, he wasn't surprised. He made a non-committal noise, hoping it would stop his worries. "Been a while since I fucked a Compatible," he said. 


	12. Mai and Jou's Amicable Breakup

It didn’t end how Jou assumed it should have. Nobody screamed, nobody cried, nobody threw their belongings into the back of the car and drove off while the people left behind tried to gathered up the holes in their life. 

It ended on a Tuesday afternoon. Jou was trying to navigate the job pages of a newspaper while Mai painted her toenails a wine-dark shade of red. “I think it would be better for our relationship if we broke up.” 

He lowered the newspaper and looked at her, his forehead drawing together in a confused wrinkle. “Are you just saying that so we can have break up sex again?” He asked. 

She laughed. “We can do that,” she answered. “But I don’t think we should be together any more. We gave it our best shot, but I don’t think we fit that well.” 

He folded up the newspaper and gave her a pleading look. “Is there anything I can do? I’m trying to be a good boyfriend.” 

Mai leaned over and dipped the brush of her nail polish into the pot. “I know, Kats,” she said quietly. “You try really hard. You’re gonna make someone very happy one day.” She blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. “But we both know I want something a lot less work.” 

He sighed. “Okay. Should I move my stuff out now or can I come back for it when I’ve settled in somewhere?” 

She chuckled. “I’m not kicking you out, Katsuya,” she told him fondly. “You keep all your stuff in the spare room anyway. Just move in there, and we’ll go back to being friends.” 

He gave her the dorky grin he knew always made her laugh. “So, no break up sex then?” 

She tilted her head back, blond hair spilling out of the bandana, and laughed. “Wait till I’ve done my pedi, would you?” 

*** 

Valon reappears the next week. It’s almost too much of a coincidence. Jou doesn’t want to believe that the reason Mai’s ditched him is because the biker was coming back into her life… It’s easy to think the other way around though. The brunet wanders around their apartment in jeans or less, glaring at Jou and acting territorial. 

The first time Mai notices, she stumps on the biker’s foot in her heels. Valon tones it down, but Jou decides to make himself scarce anyway. 

A couple weeks in, he wakes up at five past midnight the sounds of a bed frame hitting the wall somewhere above his head. He’d slid down the futon during the night, his feet overhanging the edge and lying on the tatami mat. 


	13. Tribute (Summon) - A.K.A, The Hunger Games AU

There must always be a Victor. Just one. Twenty-four kids go in and only one can ever make it out alive. Kaiba knew the odds. 

The _tesserae_ he’d bought when he was old enough to compete - and had to keep buying until they noticed his skills and gave him a proper job \- they had made it statistically more likely that his name would be drawn. There were others in the same situation as him, but not as many as the poorer districts. 

So in The Reaping on his sixteenth year, the odds had been balanced in his favour. The instant they’d drawn his name, on its little slip of paper, they were not. 

He was well-fed, but skinny. He worked with tech codes and soldering irons all day - he didn’t have the sort of muscle he needed to win with brute force. But he **was** smarter. Smarter than those lug-heads in the Career districts would ever give him credit for. He couldn’t outmatch them - but he **could** outsmart them. He **had** to. Mokuba needed him. 

When he went to the Capitol, he and his mentor focused on winning the sympathy of the Capitol. He talked about his brother at home, who had nobody else but him. He trained hard in the preliminaries, doing his best to learn as many deadly skills as he could. And he watched. 

He watched all the other tributes, trying to assess their strengths and weaknesses - or at least the ones they revealed in their training. He doubted they’d really show themselves off just yet. You had to keep your skills secret. He was doing the same. 

He got a seven from the gamemakers - respectable, but unthreatening. Nobody would be plotting against him. Not at first. 

On the final night, his dresser put him in a pure white suit and sent him out to talk with Flickerman. He stressed his need to win - to return to his orphan brother. He even managed to cry, a little. It would make him seem weaker to his opponents, but it won him the sympathy of the host and the live audience. 

Gozaburo Kaiba was the Head Gamemaker that year. He was notoriously ruthless with his Arenas - a few years ago there had been hardly any vegetation, and many of the victors had frozen to death slowly and painfully. 

This year was better. The cornucopia was in the middle of a dry prairie. The grass surrounding them was trampled, but outside of it was long and dry. Fire, he thought immediately. There were some withered trees to the east, and beyond that a sort of dry forest of trees with a papery bark. He shot off in the long grass as soon as they were released from their platforms. Hopefully nobody would have ranged weaponry just yet. 

He was tall, and crouching down in the grass for cover was hard. It took him almost a full day to find a decent hiding spot. 

At first, he hid at the top of one of the papery-barked trees. The leaves weren’t edible, he remembered that from the training. A couple of trees over there was a slow, grey teddy-bear looking thing that slept and munched the leaves all day. He was sure it wasn’t as cuddly as it looked. He was proven right when a Career walked by, under the tree. 

The thing dropped down, wicked-looking teeth tearing open the Career’s neck. It was the first time he’d ever seen someone die, let alone so horribly. He hoped the cameras didn’t show him throwing up afterwards. The dropping bear dragged the corpse back up the tree with its wicked claws, and while it was busy, he stole the weapons and supplies that had been left behind. 

There was no lighter, much to his disappointment. But there was a knife. He stabbed it into the trunk of a tree - checking for the dropping bears first \- and used a cooking pan to collect the sticky sap from the wound. For the next day and a half, when it was safe to move, he took all of the sap down to the watering hole and contaminated the water. 

The next day there was a lot of canons, and the next nobody came to the watering hole. Some of the dropping bears had died, sprawled out in the dry orange dirt of the prairie. The sun was oppressive, but he cut out strips of meat and baked them on a rock. 

Most of what he remembers about the next few days is horrible thirst. He’d saved himself three metal canisters full of water, but he only sipped some when he was dangerously dehydrated. The canons continued to go off. At night, more faces flashed across a star-studded sky. 

It was mostly Careers left by that stage. It was time to put his final plan into action. He found a flint in the packs of one of the dead tributes. He lit a patch of grass and swum into middle of the water hole. 

The whole arena was ablaze within moments. He could hear screaming - human, animal, birds. Cannons went off. Distantly, over the sounds of the flames, he heard Gozaburo Kaiba’s voice declare him the the victor of the 65th Hunger Games. He passed out not long after. 

He barely remembered the next few days after that. The interviews at the Capitol, the medical care, the congratulations. He spoke a lot about Mokuba \- about how he needed to get home to Mokuba. At any cost. 

Eventually, he did. He held on to his brother and he cried and Mokuba cried and they cried together. 

But now, he was sure, they were safe. Nothing would ever hurt them again. 


	14. Post Dark Side of Dimensions thing

Destiny is a peculiar thing. Jou can't, in good conscience, but everything that happened at the right time entirely down to his good luck. But when Kaiba washed up on the beach of the island, he had to wonder why him. 

Kaiba was sealed up inside some sort of... VR capsule thing. It was bobbing in the waves, and Jou waded into the water to grab a handle and pull it up onto the sand. It was too heavy to drag far. He pulled it above the high tide mark and tapped on the glass. 

Inside the capsule, Kaiba didn't react. Jou had a brief moment of panic before he noticed the slow, even rise and fall of Kaiba's chest. 

Alive. That was a good start. He searched the seam where glass met shiny metal until he found a catch for emergency release. Air hissed as the internal pressure released. Jou unbuckled the safety straps and carefully pulled Kaiba out of the capsule. He was worryingly thin and even with his excessively long limbs, he wasn't heavy to lift. 

Still, by the time Jou climbed the stairs back up to the beach house, he was exhausted. He lay Kaiba out on the sun lounger on the porch and headed inside to prepare a bowl of soup and the futon. The white coat was a struggle to get off, but he persisted. He eventually got it off, along with he excessive buckled straps and armoured knee pads and his boots. 

As tired as he was, he sat up that night watching Kaiba, waiting for him to wake up. In the morning, he picked up the heavy, clunky landline phone and dialled for the mainline operator. The secretary he eventually got through to seemed sceptical. 

He sighed tiredly. "Look. Can you just tell Mokuba it's Jounouchi calling about Kaiba? This is the number..." He made sure she repeated it back to him, half convinced she wouldn't hand it over anyway. 

When he hung up the phone and turned back, he found himself staring into suspicious blue eyes. "Loser dog." 

"I oughta throw you back in the ocean," Jou muttered. He crossed to get Kaiba a mug of the soup and knelt next to him. "Here. When was the last time you ate?" 

Kaiba glared at him and tried to lift himself up on weak arms. "None of your business." 

Jou sighed and shifted so Kaiba's head was propped up on his knee. "It's kinda hot," he warned, bringing the mug to Kaiba's lips. 

The jerk managed to drink half of it before he pushed Jou away and closed his eyes stubbornly. "Where is it?" He mumbled. "What did you do with it?" 

Jou didn't answer, and Kaiba slept again. 

Satisfied he would be out for a while, Jou unrolled another futon and let himself finally sleep. 

~*~ 

Mokuba didn't call him over the next few days. Jou did his best to nurse a mostly unconscious Kaiba, and ignore the various insults that came with the few waking moments. 

He kept asking for 'it'. On the third day, Jou walked back along the same section of beach to the capsule and looked around. Somehow he wasn't surprised when he saw the Prana cube lying in the footwell. Of course Kaiba had it. Of course he'd been using it. After all that shit last year, he wasn't even surprised. 

Not wanting to touch the damn thing with his bare hands, he took off his shirt and picked it up through the fabric, folding it up in a secret parcel. /Something/ told him it was a bad idea for Kaiba to get his hands on it again. He buried it under some rocks under the foundation of the house and headed back inside. 

Kaiba seemed /twitchy/ when he woke up next. His eyes darted around the room. "What is this place?" 

"My great-great uncle's beach house," he replied. "I'm house sitting. Drink your soup." 

"I'm sick of soup!" Kaiba argued. 

"You can have solid food when you're strong enough to take yourself to the bathroom," he muttered to himself, bringing the mug back to his lips. 

Kaiba bristled with futile outrage, but he did drink the soup. He was quiet as Jou carried him to the toilet, not even asking about the Prana. Maybe he knew it was nearby. Back to the futon, and then blue eyes narrowed at Jou as he settled back into the mattress. "Why are you doing this?" 

"Because your brother won't call me back," Jou replied. "You're starting to reek. Next time you wake up I'm getting you in the shower." 

Kaiba gave him a withering look, apparently not in the mood to fall back asleep. "How long has it...?" 

"Four days since you washed up on the beach. About four months since you... since your tournament." 

"Four months," Kaiba repeated, sounded exhausted. He ran a hand down his face and let it drop back to his side. "Mokuba..." 

"You want to call him?" Jou asked. 

"Tomorrow," Kaiba said. "I'm going to sleep now." 

"Okay. I'll be here when you wake up." 

~*~ 

Kaiba got sick. He muttered feverishly, snatches of Japanese and English and German and something Jou could only guess was ancient Egyptian. He seemed personally at war with the sheets of the futon, kicking and thrashing with them when Jou pulled them up. 

The blond didn't get any sleep. On the second day, he sat in the shower stall, Kaiba held in his arms as cold water rained down on them both. 

Thankfully, the fever broke. Kaiba stirred and immediately started complaining about how cold he was, about his clothes getting wet. 

"Tch," Jou spat irritably. He picked Kaiba up and wrapped him in a towel. "I'm going to get you some pyjamas." 

Kaiba was still awake when Jou passed out, complaining about the musty room and the pyjamas of inferior quality. 

In the morning, Jou aired out the room, put Kaiba up on the sun lounger while he washed their sheets and Kaiba's clothes. He came back up the porch stairs from the washing line and found Kaiba watching him with a completely unreadable expression. Embarrassed, he tugged his t-shirt back on. "It's hot," he complained. 

"This is an island," the jerk replied. 

"Yes?" Jou said, confused. 

"Which one?" He demanded. 

Jou told him all he knew about it, the small size, the distance from the main island. The fortnightly ferry that dropped his food and supplies at the docks for him to collect. 

Kaiba's lips pursed and he turned his face away. "I want to talk to Mokuba." 

"I'll take you to the phone." 

Mokuba was out of the office. Out of the country even - at a tech launch in America with Yuugi. Kaiba left him an exact word-for-word message Jou suspected was a code and hung up the phone. 

"No luck?" 

"He'll call back." 

Jou just sighed. "I'll go make some soup." 

"Fuck your soup." 

"Fuck you." 


End file.
